Turnabout Umbran
by QueenWaffles
Summary: Never would a witch and a lawyer, one so fantastical and the other so mundane, ever imagine meeting , let alone fighting side by side. Join Phoenix Wright and his allies, and Bayonetta and her consorts as they seek assistance from each other to right what is wrong in Heaven and Hell and uncover an infernal plot that will be an Armageddon to both their worlds.
1. Prologue: Tension

Two figures sat across from each other at the crude, makeshift table, in an uncomfortable, boiling hot, and equally crude room. The walls were no more advanced than slabs of dark, rigid rocks melted together; there was not even a floor, just a scratchy, tense surface of stone. It was in no means a friendly meeting; two different goals with intertwining elements had drawn them together. If it was not for that, they most likely would have found themselves distancing each other, or in the fault of their personalities, fighting and quarreling.

"I can tell you right now," the one on the left side of the table started, "if you work from here, you will have no chance of succeeding. You had opportunities in the past, but in your extensive bouts of futile rage, pouting, and hate, you missed them all."

The figure on the right had no tolerance for mockery and insolence, and quickly stood up, hands pressed firmly on the table: "Speak to me that way again," they threatened, "and you will pay dearly. I don't care what you think of my past actions. This is about the present, what is happening now, and what I want to do.

"Well, if you have no interest in tinkering with time, then you can give up now. I have seen his past, present, and future, and if you do not employ my skills, then I swear by what I see, he will not speak to her again, and you will have no chances."

The figure on the right sat in tense, self-deliberation, seething a steady river of hate, wickedness, impurity, and a desire for revenge. After what seemed to be a time longer than the existence of the universe, did they finally answer.

"Fine. Manipulate time and history. Do what you have to do so that I will have a chance again. This time, my mind is clear and set, and I will snatch the opportunity the moment I see it. And so now, what…do I owe you?"

"You've made a fantastic choice. I will see to that as soon as we dismiss," the other enthusiastically gestured and spoke. "And as for debts, simply your unconditionally cooperation in my plan. It seems fair enough, seeing how similar our goals are; it won't even seem like we are working together. Rather, think of it as-

"I don't care what you or I think of it as. I have neither the time nor the patience for trivial nonsense. I have business to tend to that is much more important that discussing the connotations of our agreement. Our deal is done, and I shall be leaving now." They stood upright and began to walk away from the table.

_How unpleasant some people can be,_ the one who remained at the table thought. _But they will provide great assistance, and in no compromise or deal is either party ever completely satisfied._

They got up from their hours long sitting position, and strode to the dilapidated door in the corner of the room, just as it swung shut from their partner's exit.

_Surely this task cannot be too hard, nothing extreme or out of the ordinary about it. I just must make sure that Phoenix Wright is never disbarred._


	2. Sickness

**September 22, 2019**

Phoenix Wright stood tall, leaning on a wooden armchair in the middle of his living room, enjoying a slice of cake, donning his characteristic blue suite and red tie. On this particular day, there was most certainly a happy, celebratory atmosphere enveloping his house, but he felt as if something was off. Intuition? Maybe. A premonition? He doubted it. Utter nonsense? That was probably it.

"COGRATS, NICK!"

That was the interjection Phoenix Wright heard as his former assistant Maya Fey burst through his house door and gave him a surprise, rib crushing hug from behind. Maya might have not have been the tallest or strongest girl, but her admirable enthusiasm and vigor more than made up for that fault.

He dropped his cake on the carpet floor, unsure whether it was from her cunning delivery or brute strength.

"Did ya hear me, Nick? CONGRATS!"

He would have said "Yes", but he could barely breathe, let alone speak.

"…Yea-…..I did…. Bu-….can't brea-…," he struggled to say, her arms squeezing his body affectionately but painfully.

"Oh, right," Maya chimed, and released her grip.

Phoenix turned around and faced his former assistant. It had been less than a year since she had returned to the Kurain Villaige to take position as the Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique, but she seemed to have changed so much, despite the still obvious presence of her childish nature. Perhaps a position of such responsibility and esteem had given her a few pearls of wisdom.

Maya looked around the rooms of the house, all decorated in festive banners, lights, and colors for a party to celebrate her closest friend's most recent victory in court, her purple and slightly pink kimono swaying in the direction of her lively movements.. Phoenix wasn't a boastful or arrogant man, but his last case was so lopsided, and it seemed so likely that the defendant was truly a ruthless killer, that after he proved their innocence, his small circle of friends insisted on commemorating it.

Phoenix bent down in an effort to clean up the cake he dropped, drawing a napkin from his blue suit pocket. Maya did the same.

"So," he began, "I didn't think you would be able to make it. It seemed as if you would have too much on your hands."

The beads and the magatama around Maya's neck bounced jubilantly as she spoke, "Well, I certainly DO have a lot to do. It isn't easy teaching an already difficult technique to beginners. Actually, it's one of the hardest things I've ever done. Really hard. I might as well be teaching a pig to fly. Which, speaking of pigs, one time, a pig wandered down to the village from a nearby farm, and one girl decided she was going to try to teach it to fly and almost threw it off-," Maya caught herself going off on a tangent. "Anyhow, I told everybody that it was a very special occasion for me, and gave charge to one of my best students for the duration of my leave."

"Well, I'm really glad you could make it," Phoenix gleefully replied as he stood up, brushed off his pants, and examined the scope of the room.

The party wasn't huge. Actually, it was pathetically small, probably not even truly encompassing the amount of people necessary for one. Pearl sat on the floor, her back against the bright red wall, as Trucy showed her a magic trick involving a slice of cake (he did not anticipate it ending well). Dick and Miles were having a surprisingly lighthearted conversation at a flimsy card table he set up for guests. He then saw a mostly empty bottle of whiskey rolling toward the edge of the table, and suddenly their moods were no longer so surprising.

He, in a particularly happy and friendly mood, had even sent an invitation to Franziska von Karma. However, quite expectedly, he received a stern letter back, saying: "Only a horrendously foolish fool would let even the possibility of attending such a foolish gathering of foolhardy fools and their tomfoolery cross her mind, and so, I decline."

The party was most likely better off without the hot headed prosecutor anyways. But he had sent it out of an inherent instinct of politeness and courtesy.

"I see that Pearly got here OK," Maya cheered.

"Yep, she did," said Phoenix, "but just as a useful tip for the future, try to make sure that the train tickets you purchase are for the same day, not a week apart."

"Of course I will, silly. Mistakes, mistakes, mistakes. Everybody makes them. I'm sure I'm entitled to one at least once in a while. Or quite often. Or whenever they happen to occur" That statement seemed to embody Maya's youthful nature.

Phoenix led Maya over to a battered yet comfy couch, which sat adjacent to a stereo playing semi-earsplitting pop music. Unlike most of his cases, Phoenix did not need to look very closely or intuitively to know who the bubbly, brunette culprit was. A fairly large TV playing a news channel was mounted to the wall across from them.

But, childhood was a delicate and precious gift, so Phoenix let it play in lieu of upsetting Trucy.

Maya plopped down and immediate stretched, barely giving Phoenix enough room.

"You know, Nick," she started, but then Pearl spotted them and interrupted.

"Mister Nick's special someone is here!"

Phoenix cringed and Maya blushed. She may not have been his special someone, but it seemed that any person always blushed or shuddered at the accusation of love, no matter how nonsensical it may have been.

Dick and Miles, in their somewhat tipsy states, both found this statement hilarious, and nearly fell out of their seats laughing. Dick did fall out, and was lying on the floor.

"A special someone? A ha ha ha ha!," he chortled. "You're too funny, Pearl. Why don't you pursue a career in comedy? Imagine, you and Trucy, a magic and laughs duo, raking in big fans and big bucks! Of course, with at least a little for good ol' Gumshoe. Maybe even more than a little; how about fifty percent?"

Although alcohol had its on everyone, it seemed Edgeworth tolerated it better.

"What a cute way to make Phoenix blush, Pearl," he chuckled. "Cute indeed. And perhaps the detective and I ought to lay off the drinking." He then straightened his suit and helped the crumpled wreck of Gumshoe off the floor and back into a chair.

Pearl ran over to the couch, loops of hair jumping up and down, and plopped on Phoenix's lap, her feet's kicking motion causing a hole in the beat up, burgundy couch to widen. And Trucy, now without an audience, came over too. As Phoenix had predicted, her cake, the apparent subject of her magic trick, had instead ended all over the wall where they were just moments ago, the icing already starting to run down the wall toward the carpet.

"Trucy, Pearl," Phoenix began to chide, "please clean up the cake before it ruins the coat of paint and the new carpet."

Pearl hadn't even noticed the mess that her friend had left. "Trucy!" she teased.

"Aw ok, fine," she replied.

Trucy proceeded to reach in Phoenix's suit pocket and pull out the already used napkin. However, she paid it not heed. She ran over to the wall and gave a quick, furious swipe of the napkin, getting rid of all the cake.

"Alakazam! It's gone! It was all a part of my trick! My fantastic trick!"

Phoenix, Maya, and Pearl gave her a round of applause for her performance. Pearl asked for an encore, but Phoenix intervened and prevented it, not wanting anymore food wasted.

Now without something to do, Trucy came back to the couch and sat with them again, a range of warm and goofy emotions emanating from her as well as Pearl.

"Nick and Maya sitting in a tree-," the little girl began.

"Pearl!" Maya was a little shocked at her cousin's new level of teasing. But it was the norm, whether she liked it or not. "How about you two give Nick and me a little time to chit chat and catch up. After all Pearl, you're with me in the village all the time, and Trucy, I'm sure we can visit later."

"Awwww…" both girls said simultaneously. "But please? We're big girls. We can do adult talk." The two of them seemed insistent on staying.

"How about, if you give us sometime, Trucy, you can do an encore of your trick later, but with ALL the leftover cake?"

Trucy lit up at the prospect of performing again, and Pearl beamed at the idea of seeing such a spectacle.

"You've got a deal!" Trucy shouted.

"But you two better keep it!" Pearl chimed in.

They then jumped off the couch and ran out of the living room and down the hall, presumably to Trucy's room, where they'd hopefully be entertained for at least an hour, given all the books, knick knacks, and toys that she had. Plus, Pearl was bunking with Trucy for the duration of her stay, so all of the belongings she took with her were there. Hopefully she had something that would occupy them for awhile.

"Bribery is not exactly the best parenting technique," Phoenix said with a smile.

"Hey, I'm not even a parent!" Maya retorted goofily.

"Well you might as well be one to Pearl. And to a lot of the girls you instruct. As a Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique, I'm sure that a lot of them look up to you as a role model."

"Well, you've gotta do what you've gotta do," she said, twirling her black hair in her fingers, let it occasionally brush across Phoenix's shoulder.

There was no conversation between the two for a minute. They sat in the happy commotion of the room, Trucy's controversial music still playing, and Dick and Miles in a more sober conversation about a disastrous fishing trip. Phoenix's hands dug deep into the spaces between the couch cushions in an almost nervous fashion, while Maya absentmindedly whistled and shouldered up against Phoenix.

"Let's go to the kitchen," Phoenix suggested. "It's a lot quieter there."

The two headed down the hall, with its fairly nice brown diamond wall paper, small wall lights, and few botanical paintings that had been left in the house when Phoenix bought it.

Maya sat down in a tall, sturdy wooden chair at the kitchen's island, and Phoenix, not having much in terms of substantial food, poured a bowl of BBQ chips and offered it to Maya, who gladly accepted it.

"Almost as good as hamburgers," she spoke, most likely with the tinges of a little white lie laced in.

The two quickly fell into deep conversation. Most of it was nothing terribly important: discussing random current events, food, television, happenings in the area, and funny little predicaments and situations they'd happen to find themselves in over the past months.

Their personal lives became a topic of discussion too: Phoenix was doing well. Besides his last case, he had not had any extremely difficult or stressful ones, and his career as a defense attorney was going very smoothly. He was now fairly well known in the Los Angeles area, and his reputation was well respected, even inspiring admiration in young onlookers. He glowed with pride when he spoke of his visit to a few local elementary schools for career day. He knew many children wanted to see intelligent doctors, brave fire fighters, and valiant policemen speak about their jobs and occupations, but he was quite pleased at how many of them also wanted to hear a lawyer speak about his profession. He doubted that such interest was always the case.

"I think, my cases in the past years, have given some light to the professions in the field of law and justice," he began. " Twenty or thirty years ago, I don't think you'd see children jumping up in class saying that they wanted to be a judge, or a detective, a prosecutor or a defense attorney. But now you see that happening. And the respect that law has gained it so great too. It seemed only decades ago, when you heard of law, it was always of celebrity scandals with children, mansions, and million dollar fortunes, and obvious criminals, sex offenders, and corrupt officials that somehow get off the hook when they should be locked up. But now the law has lost a lot of that dirty connotation, and I am so ecstatic about that."

Maya said that despite how taxing being Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique could be, it was a rewarding position and one she loved. Children would be children, and on some days delighted her with what they could do, and on other days infuriated her with the shenanigans and clamor they were capable of causing, but watching them grow and advance was a treat. Not to mention the bonds and friendships they formed with them. Since she was such a young master, a bridge seemed to exist between her and her pupils, a beneficial one that was absent between past, older masters and the ones they taught. Some residents of the village spoke of her being a revolutionary Master, one that had been needed for a long time.

"You would not believe the looks of joy and relief on some students' faces when they regain consciousness after channeling a spirit for the first time," she spoke. "It's enthralling. You're born into and raised in a community with such supernatural ties, but to actually experience them is something else. It's like becoming president after the hard, years long campaign. Like becoming CEO of a company after so many years of working for them. And almost always after, when they regain consciousness, they are never one bit frightened or bewildered. Instead, they shout: Master Maya! I did it! It's such a joy to see that, Nick!"

After what must have been at least two hours, and the sun drooped low in the September sky, Phoenix asked Maya a favor.

"Maya," he started. "I was also wondering…. Well, I don't mean to sound…. Manipulative? No that's a bad word to describe it with….-"

"Let me guess Nick," Maya asked, "you want me to channel Mia?"

"Yes."

"Well of course! It's only natural for you to want to tell your mentor what you've done! Why would you seem so awkward about it?"

"Well, all the other times you've done it, we were in court, or in a court related situation where we desperately needed her. Now, it's just a want, not a necessity, and I felt sort of bad asking you."

"Nick, you silly goose. Or would you rather moose? What do you think spirit mediums are for? Besides, she's my sis. I'd love to know what words she leaves for me."

"Ok. Thanks a bunch, Maya."

Twenty minutes later, Phoenix, Maya, Dick, Miles, Trucy, and Pearl were all gathered in the living room; Trucy's atrocious music finally shut off, the prosecutor and detective completely sober, and the television in the corner of the room turned off too.

Maya sat on the couch, while everyone else was either standing or sitting by it. Maya sat there, her eyes closed, in what would seem to be a very calm state. However, Phoenix knew, she was concentrating intensely, and chose to show it as little as possible.

In the past, Maya had failed to channel spirits on multiple occasions. But now that she was Master, she had to diligently keep up with her own training too, and so he earnestly hoped that this would be a success. He knew he could technically always ask Pearl, but she was just a young girl, and how awkward would it be for a full grown man like him to be giving such a request to her.

All of the sudden, Maya's body went somewhat limp and leaned back against the couch, however, this alarmed nobody, for that was what usually happened right before Maya channeled a spirit.

But what happened next certainly was not supposed to.

Maya's body, clearly unconscious, suddenly jerked straight up, and she emitted an earsplitting, mortifying scream that was drenched in suffering, pain and agony; it was a scream that struck terror deep into the hearts of everyone in the room, and caused Trucy and Pearl to become wide eyed and aghast. She the jerked back against the couch, and fell into the fit of a grand mal seizure.

"Wright! What the hell is happening?" Gumshoe shouted.

"I-I don't know! This has never happened before!"

He and the detective tried to move Mia's body from the couch so that it wouldn't fall onto the floor, but her limbs were flailing and her body was convulsing so erratically and uncontrollably that they nearly dropped her.

"No!" Miles shouted. "That's the worst thing to do when someone is having a seizure. Keep her there. Put a pillow beneath her head, turn her on her side, and let it pass." For how urgent the situation was, he was awfully calm.

Phoenix quickly backed away from the couch and realized that Trucy and Pearl were still in the room.

"Mr. Nick!" Pearl yelled with fear in her voice. "What's happening?"

"Daddy!" Trucy was beginning to cry. "Help Maya! Help her!"

"Gumshoe!" Phoenix hurriedly spoke to the detective. "Get the girls out of here. Take them to Trucy's room. They shouldn't be seeing this."

"I'm on it," he replied, and ran over to the girls, explaining that everything would be fine, and rushed them down the hall to Trucy's room.

Maya's seizure was not letting up. Her body was still suffering from violent spasms, and Phoenix noticed now that there was a steady trickle of blood coming from the corner of her mouth. Steady indeed; it was beginning to pool on the couch, so much that it was noticeable even with the couch's red tinge. Some of it had also gotten on her kimono and magatama.

_How has this turned from such a happy scene into a nightmare? _Phoenix thought. _ And why? Maya is a perfectly healthy girl! _

"This is bad," Miles spoke, leaning worriedly over Maya. "If it's not letting up, we ought to call an ambulance."

Phoenix was to the kitchen and back in no time, a telephone in his hands.

"911? Yes. We have an emergency. My friend is having a very bad seizure….bleeding from her mouth…. jerking won't stop…safety position…..1337…..road….." Phoenix's voice rattled off her condition and their address.

A few seconds later, he hung up the phone, and stood by Miles as Dick rushed back into the room:

"Phoenix, they're both a wreck. They don't believe me and won't stop crying. It's horrible, seeing them like that. But nothing I did helped." In a state of sweating and exhaustion, he took off his large green coat, and whipped it across the room onto the wooden armchair.

"It's-it's fine…. I probably couldn't do better anyways," Phoenix's voice quavered.

"And you're sure, you have no idea what this is?" Miles questioned.

"I'm sure. Every other time she channeled someone, she either succeeded, or failed. But her failures were nothing on the level of this. There were no seizures or bleeding or anything this terrible."

"Well, then you can do nothing else. Do not brood over the impossible. Try to stay calm; the ambulance will be here soon."

Phoenix collapsed to the floor in agony, weakly sitting up.

"But this is my fault! If I hadn't asked her to summon Mia, this wouldn't have happened!" He burrowed his face deep into his hands and arms.

"And if you hadn't? Then it may have happened the next time she did it, with her students, of whom I'm sure none would be capable of properly handling an emergency situation… If she has to go through this, better that she is doing it here."

"I don't care!" Phoenix raised his voice. "It's my fault!"

Miles began to try to reason with him again, but stopped himself. Instead, he took Dick aside, fifteen or so feet away from Phoenix's sobbing form.

"I may prosecute for murder trials," he started, "but I've also heard my fair share about seizures and convulsions. I don't think any I've heard about have been this bad." With no way to help Maya, his hands needed something to do, so they resorted to constantly fiddling with the white frills on his suit.

Dick's face turned gray.

"I'm no doctor," he spoke, "but seizures are perfectly survivable, right?"

"Yes, they are. But very severe ones can have debilitating side effects."

"And you're saying you think this is severe enough to do that?"

"I think so…. I just wanted to tell you that. I had thought of telling Phoenix, just so he knew and was aware, but in his state now, it would break him."

Their conversation was ended as an ambulance siren wailed outside. Paramedics knocked loudly at the door, and then burst through.

Phoenix looked up from his position on the floor, startled to suddenly see all these people rushing into the room. He jumped up and stepped aside to give them room, his face stained with tears. He was a strong man, but even the toughest crack under pressure.

Within minutes, the emergency responders were heading out the door with Maya. On their way out, Phoenix had a very brief conversation with one of them.

"How is she?"

"Bad," a chubby, red haired one said as he ran out the door, following his comrades.

Bad. That was all he said. Nothing more.

Miles agreed to stay at the house to watch and comfort Trucy and Pearl while Phoenix and Dick followed the ambulance to North End Community Hospital. There was a plethora of chaos when they arrived there, and what little they learned was that Maya's condition was labeled as "critical", and that she was in the ICU; on the way there, she had begun having extreme heart arrhythmia, and the response team was fearful that she would go into cardiac arrest.


	3. Once Again

On the outskirts of an old, small, and modest, Welsh town, there stood a very out of place church. Its towers and steeples rose starkly through the air; within one a bell hung in an ever so ready position, and grandiloquent columns rose from the ground to lend their support to its elegantly painted gold and white roof. Massive stained glass windows dotted every side, their spectrum of vibrant colors and meticulously crafted shapes depicting wondrous and fantastical figures, fights, and crusades from archaic millennia past. Expertly sculpted statues of magnificent angels and biblical figures lined the marble stairs leading up to its tall, heavy door, through which one would think masses of people devotedly walked through to worship.

But inside was only one person.

A figure dressed in a flowing river of white and gold ornate garbs walked slowly down the center isle, their eyes darting from the wooden pews to the giant, golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling to the solemnly empty altar at the front of the room. Every stride conveyed a sad but honorable sense of duty, as if their mind was in the church, but their heart was an unreachable distance away where no sailor, knight, or hero could ever hope to find it. They cast their gaze upon the ground in what almost seemed to be self-shame, and the movement caused the light flowing in from the outside to catch their glasses at a blinding but brilliant angle.

The figure chose a pew, walked in, and kneeled down, the movement and fluidity of it all describing them as undeniably feminine.

Such delicate movements they made, but yet the bench creaked louder than the bellows of archaic monsters and beasts depicted in the paintings covering the walls of the church.

She bent down, closed her eyes, and folded her hands in prayer, putting them close to her heart.

"When the shadows lengthen, and we are lost in the dark, let us not suffer but prevail with Your grace. Let us not weep but endure with Your strength. Let us not fight but unite with Your wisdom, so that we shall not perish from this earth…"

As her voice faded in the last lines of the prayer, an incredibly strong and violent gust of wind blew open the church's doors, and on the turbulence, in drifted a letter. It gently fell straight into her hands, the envelope looking black, damaged, and burnt as if its journey to her was a long and perilous one. She got up from her kneeling position and sat in the pew, undoing the silver seal on the envelope, only for her hand to recoil in pain from the heat of it, having even left the white of her outfit that touched it now dark and singed.

"Damn it," she swore under hear breath, and then, remembering where she was, chastised herself.

When she finally removed the letter from the envelope, it floated upward and out of her hands to eye level and unfolded itself. As the rows of neat penmanship on torn and ripped paper appeared before her, dark purple and red swirls of magic drifted off of the page, imbued with feelings of urgency and annoyance.

_As soon as you leave your wretched holy grounds, I request that you meet with me immediately. The matter at hand is one to be addressed hastily, and if it is not, I am sure we will both suffer immensely. If you do not correspond soon, I will find other, much less pleasant ways, to contact you. I presume you already know how to go about this. _

The letter wasn't signed, but the woman didn't need a name to know who it was from. And she had no pockets, so she slipped it underneath her right sleeve.

She looked through the stained glass windows and saw that it was still midafternoon. It would be another few hours before the light faded and dark dominated, and she would be able to address this business in the most convenient and discreet way possible. So she withdrew a prayer book from a compartment in the pew, and continued to pray until the light filtering through the windows was reduced to nihility, and even by straining her eyes, could only barely see the words on the page.

She put the book back in its place and rose from her position, stretching her body in places where it became stiff from the length of time she spent there. Very quiet thumps could be heard as she made her way back to the church's door, the air seeming to grow tense with her thoughts of the meeting. But why be so worried? How bad could it be? She had been through a countless number of dangerous and precarious ordeals in her life; this one would have to be over the top in every way to be something that she hadn't been through before.

As she stepped outside, her robes and cape-like veil gently billowed in the breeze, and she made her way to a dull red, ancient looking, rusty car parked at the side of the road across from the church. As she put the key in the ignition and turned it, it was a small miracle that it even started with its signature mechanical roar. But no sooner had it than she was miles down the dirt road, kicking up pebbles and dust.

Minutes later, she stopped near the entrance of an abandoned mine. The area was fenced off, with danger, keep out, and no trespassing signs littering the premises, but she paid them no heed. Instead, she got out of her car, made a huge leap over the fence, and gracefully landed in a patch of dead grass. First, with two fingers, she drew a magic circle in the air and stepped through.

_There is no need to risk the human world,_ she thought.

The she took out the envelope and letter, and tossed them into the air. She blew a kiss, which landed right in the center of the letter, and as it did, it fell straight to the ground. A bright, malevolent light began coming up from the earth, and a dark red portal filled with flames and anguished screams opened up. Out of it rose a tall, malevolent demon with pale blue skin and butterfly wings. She wore an intricately worked black and purple dress, with shoes to match, and had large similarly colored horns that ended with a sinister, red curl. A golden, crown like headpiece covered part of her forehead, contrasting with her glowing red eyes, and each beat of her wings seemed to amplify the horrific noises coming from the portal. But her size and intimidation were nothing compared to the full summons performed when she was fighting.

"Bayonetta," she spoke with traces of respect.

"Madama Butterfly," Bayonetta said back, putting her hands on her hips and a red lollipop in her mouth.

"It seems you waste much of your time immersed in religious books and other such tomfoolery."

"To each her own dreams, desires, and regrets, of which it seems no others should intrude upon, since none of mine threaten our pact. Whatever wrongs I commit in other places, I'd at least like to try to balance them somehow."

Madama Butterfly, limited to the space inside the portal, sighed angrily and stamped her foot, sending a small shockwave out to the surrounding area.

"I suppose you could be right, after all, no matter what you do; you'll be down here one day regardless."

Bayonetta snarked at that comment.

"Silence!" Madama screamed, the flames in the portal jumping ten feet, her eyes' glow intensifying. "I did not come here for you to pester me with idiocy."

Bayonetta quieted, but in no way did her confidence waver.

"Something is wrong in the Inferno. I don't know what. But I feel it, and I do not doubt myself. Whatever it is, it is very bad on both our ends."

"And so I'm guessing you want me to put a stop to this crap?" Bayonetta asked.

"Yes," Madama hissed. "Unless you want to suffer on my account, and on the account of whatever or whoever is behind this."

"Well, you don't exactly give me a lot to work with."

"I don't know anymore that what I've told you. That's for you to find out. The Inferno is a vast place, and thousands of events can occur unknownst to many. To find definitive information about anything proves to be very difficult. But surely, it will impact Paradisio, Purgatorio, and even the human world too. Look there for what is wrong. Nothing on a scale like this happens without rippling throughout the world." Her voice was tinged with frustration and impatience.

"I suppose it seems a little more plausible now." Bayonetta paused in thought for a moment.

"Fine. I suppose these types of things are always my responsibility, whether I like it or not."

"You've made a wise choice," Madama praised, if that was even possible for a demon. "You may have immense sass and arrogance, but you do have wisdom."

_Well that's hardly a compliment, _Bayonetta thought. _You can't get anywhere in life without a little sass and arrogance._ She crossed her arms, and the gold on her outfit shimmered with her movement,

"But just remember," Madama Butterfly began as she prepared to descend back into the portal, whipping around in the opposite direction, "failure is not an option. If you fail, the consequences will be terrible." Her tall, slender figure then dove back down into the Inferno, and the portal closed up, the sound of screams and the heat of fire disappearing with it.


	4. A Light in the Dark

Miles sat down on the pink, fluffy, pillow laden bed with Trucy to his right and Pearl to his left.

Trucy's room was a very happy, upbeat one. The walls were painted bright pink to match the bed, and posters of cute animals decorated them. Her floor was a mess with plushies, toys, and homework books and notebooks that he suspected she had not done anything with. Despite her not having reached her teen years yet, her large, pine dresser was littered with bottles of nail polish, tubes of lipstick, and even a container or two of concealer and foundation. And were those scraps of paper with phone numbers on them that he saw?

_They seem to grow up much faster nowadays,_ he thought. _But even children who mature quickly should not have to witness a cousin and a friend nearly die._

He shifted nervously, unsure of how he should explain the situation to them while being as honest as possible, yet not breaking their hearts. Trucy and Pearl both sobbed on his sleeves, their cries and groans paining him greatly.

"Girls," Miles started, "Miss Maya just got a little sick. Must have been something she ate or something she caught. But don't you two worry; she's at the hospital now and she'll feel much better in no time."

"You're lying!" Pearl hastily retorted, tears flying from her face as she aggressively shook her head. "Maya is not just a little sick! Stop lying and tell us the truth!"

Pearl's revelation caused Trucy to break down even further, her wailing becoming hard on his ears.

_The truth. The hard but honest truth. Isn't that what my ultimate goal in life is? To find and expose it, to free the world from its toxic web of lies and deception? To show others the value and purity of learning and embracing what is true, and the malignancy and downfall of believing what is false?_

He paused and sighed.

_How hypocritical I'm being right now…._

And then he paused yet again.

_But sometimes the truth must wait. And this is one of those times._

"No girls, Maya will be fine, I assure you."

"But how do you know?" Trucy coarsely asked. "You're not even at the hospital." She proceeded to rub her wet, bloodshot eyes with part of her red, dazzling cape.

"I've seen Maya sick a lot of times, Mr. Edgeworth," Pearl added, "but never has it been like this."

"Please, believe me when I say it," Miles began, with faint tones of begging in his voice, "the nurses and doctors at the hospital can do amazing things. Maya will be okay. I work to find and show the truth, and I would never do anything less for you two."

That seemed to calm the girls down to a degree, and for a few moments, they were both quiet.

"Mr. Edgeworth," Trucy whimpered. "I'm scared…. Will you… stay? With us?"

"Please?" Pearl sniveled. "Please please please?"

_Wright, I hope you know comforting children is not exactly my department, _he thought. _But I will do my best._

"Of course I will."

By that time, it was nine o'clock and getting late, and as upset and hysterical as the two young girls were, the exhaustion and need for sleep showed in their faces. Pearl had purple circles under her eyes and looked like she might pass out right then and there. Trucy didn't look much more lively.

Miles leaned down and grabbed two plushies off the floor: a Pikachu and a Greymon. He handed Pikachu to Trucy and Greymon to Pearl, each girl tightly hugging them and laying back on the bed. He put a pillow beneath each of their heads, and then remembered something.

"How about you two brush your teeth and get some pajamas on?" he asked.

But they were already fast asleep, and Miles could only somberly sit there and contemplate how Phoenix and Dick were faring.

* * *

><p>It was 3:09 A.M. Phoenix and Dick both laid nearly asleep in the black, extremely uncomfortable chairs in North End Hospital's waiting room, sporting contorted positions from trying to fit themselves into the chairs in a sleeping position. They had arrived there sometime around 8:00 P.M., but because of Maya's condition, they were not allowed into her room and had heard very little on her.<p>

Besides the receptionist, they were the only two in the room. No other emergencies had come in the day before. The cream colored, dim ceiling lights occasionally flickered on and off, and the only noises to be heard were the quiet yet incredibly annoying tik-tik-tik as the skinny, middle aged, gray haired woman hammered away at her keyboard and the detective's sonorous snoring.

But finally, the large, steel double doors that led to the hospital's main hallway opened up, and out into the poorly lit room stepped a short, Latino man with black, curly hair, wearing a trademark white doctor's coat.

"Is the family of Miss Maya Fey here?" He asked with a subtle accent.

Phoenix and Dick jolted awake and quickly got out of their seats, wiping the signs of sleep from their faces.

"Yes!" The lawyer shouted and ran over to the doctor, with Dick close behind.

"Doctor Hugo Molnadono," he spoke as he shook their hands. "And you two are?"

"Phoenix Wright, Maya's guardian," the spiky-haired lawyer answer. Then Dick joined the conversation.

"Detective Dick Gumshoe. I'm a close friend."

"Ah, ok." Dr. Molnadono replied. "I believe I've heard of you two. Matter of fact, Mr. Wright, are you the defense attorney who defended Dr. Shikes in a malpractice case a few months ago?"

"I certainly am," Phoenix responded, his chest swelling slightly with pride.

"So then I do know you. Well, my thanks for proving my co-worker's innocence. She has a family to support and couldn't afford to lose her job and pay any fines. And now, on to Maya," the doctor began.

Phoenix and Dick both became very agitated and anxious, beads of sweat suddenly appearing at their temples and their bodies nearly trembling from the news they expected to hear. As the doctor opened his mouth to relay the information to them, it was as if time slowed down to a near halt and moved at the pace of a snail.

"She is stable."

Both of the men gave a gigantic sigh of relief. Maya wasn't dead. That was incredible news. They really had both thought that she might die.

"But she is not out of the woods. Not anywhere near that. Actually, to put it figuratively, she is still smack dab in the middle of the Amazon rain forest."

"What?!" The detective exclaimed. "What's wrong with her?"

"That is the problem," the doctor said. "We don't know. The staff has poured over all of her health records and everything on file for her, but there is nothing there to give us any indication. No allergies, no preexisting conditions, no past injuries, nothing. Mr. Wright and Mr. Gumshoe, are you sure there is nothing that the hospital may not know about her health?"

"Well, she hasn't been living with me for awhile," Phoenix said, "But if anything serious happened to her, I'm sure I would have been informed."

"She hasn't been with you?" The doctor inquired. "Then where has she been?"

"The Kurain Villaige," Dick explained. "She's, um, a spirit medium, and she has been working there as master of her clan's channeling technique for, probably not even a year yet."

"Spirit channeling? I have heard bits about it. I assume it's a stressful job, at least on the body?"

"Well," Phoenix started," I guess so. I mean, I've never really asked her. But I would say it probably is, given what they do. But I don't think that's what made her sick! She's channeled many people without a problem. This is the only time such a catastrophe has ever happened."

"Stress can build up," Dr. Molnadono argued. "It may not have happened the first, second, fifth, or tenth time she did it, but if an exuberant amount of any kind of stress occurs enough times, whoever is subjected to it can suddenly crack; although it's not usually this atrocious."

The three were silent. Phoenix and Dick stretched a little to ease their aching backs, thinking about what could have triggered Maya's sudden illness. Phoenix twiddled with the spikes on the end of his jet black hair, deep in thought.

"We've ran a lot of test and diagnostic procedures, but they're all inconclusive. That's why I was asking about her stress. Coupled with certain diseases, that could explain why this happened, but so far, she doesn't have any of the illnesses we've tested for."

"You're sure?" Dick asked. "Who says it's not something very rare that's hard to catch?"

"That was what I thought, but most of these symptoms have common diseases associated with them. The seizure made me think of epilepsy, and coupling it with coughing up blood, it could have been a severe hypoglycemic seizure as a result of diabetes. The arrhythmia could have been from hypertension, a heart attack, or a wide variety of heart conditions, none of which the tests showed she had. The fact that she became so sick all of the sudden hinted at AIDS, but blood tests were negative."

"So in other words," Phoenix angrily grunted "you have no idea what is wrong with her, and no definitive information on what's ailing her?"

"In the most matter of fact way, yes. Except for one thing."

Phoenix and Dick expected him to tell them right away what the information was, but Dr. Molnadono instead paused for a few minutes, awkwardly shuffling his feet and the papers and clipboard in his hands. The lights on the ceiling seemed to flicker to an even dimmer level than usual, and the receptionist's fingers seemed to have taken a break from relentlessly typing, leaving the room in an eerie, shadowy quiet. Dick checked his watch and saw it was now a quarter to four, and Phoenix apprehensively ran his fingers along his large, red tie.

"We're sure that whatever disease is afflicting her, it's terminal."

The doctor's words were like a car driving head on into Phoenix's chest. Their weight effortlessly knocked him to the ground, where he landed in an emotionally shattered heap. To him, the world might as well have been over now. His former assistant, his best friend, and even daughter to a degree, would for only a short time longer grace the earth with her cheer, vigor, ambition, and talent, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing could keep her tethered to the place she loved and belonged; it would only be a matter of time before she was forever condemned to a cold, hard coffin in the ground, alone and away from the places she should still be and the people she should still be with, hopelessly wandering in a strange afterlife and wondering why she had to go so soon. No longer would the bubbly Master of the Kurain Channeling Technique or the quirky but incredibly lovable attorney's assistant leave her mark upon the world. She would be gone, gone, and gone.

_WHY? _Phoenix thought. _WHY? Why her? Why not me? Why not anyone but her?_

Dick reached down and helped Phoenix up. The attorney weakly clung to his shoulder.

"I'm sorry." The doctor piped up, and bowed his head in sadness. "I know how it feels. Whenever I have to tell that to a patient's family, it never gets any easier. But whatever she has, the symptoms will come back. The medicine we're giving her is helping to quell them and stop her pain, but she will only become weaker. I-

"Can we see her?" Phoenix fiercely demanded. "I want to see her. Now."

Phoenix's sudden change in attitude didn't seem to startle the doctor.

"Since she is stable, yes, you can see her. She's somewhat awake. But she is on an extensive amount of pain medication and is probably confused and loopy from it."

"Can't you see he doesn't care what she's like?" Dick shouted, drowning out the receptionist's futile efforts to quiet him down. "He wants to see her!"

"Yes, yes, of course. Right this way," the doctor replied, noticeably intimidated by the detective.

Dr. Molnadono led them through the doors and down a long, white, tile floored corridor. It was mostly empty, but a few nurses who had patients to care for overnight were in and out of rooms checking blood pressure, administering medication, and helping patients relieve themselves. There was no screaming, shouting, or yelling; there were no dire emergencies to be seen besides Maya's. As they passed by rooms, Phoenix could see the occasional flicker of a TV screen, and hear the beep of a patient pressing a button to request their nurse. A brown haired, lanky nurse pushed by a cart with a disposal container for gowns and dirty linen on it and gave a quick wave to the group. Finally, at the very end of a series of hallways, they came to Maya's room.

Phoenix was startled when he walked in. Maya was indeed awake. However, there was a large crowd of nurses attending to her and checking all sorts of readings and vital signs, none of them paying heed to the group that had just entered the room.

"Everybody take a break." Dr. Molnadono told them. "She is fairly stable at the moment, and you all need one."

The men and women in the group were surprised to hear his voice as they turned around and saw him. But they all quickly finished their business and departed the room. One of them handed a sheet with all sort of numbers and figures on it to the doctor on their way out.

Now Phoenix had a clear view of his dear friend, and was mortified to see how many machines it was possible to hook somebody up to. She had at minimum four IVs running down her arms and attaching to bags of what must have been morphine or a similar drug. Electrodes were taped to the upper part of her chest that was scarcely concealed by a white hospital gown, there was a large brace on her neck, and tubes went down her nose to help her breathe. There was a cluster of other tubes and wires attached to her, trying her to various machines that monitored statistics that he couldn't understand. All the color was drained of her face so profoundly that you could almost see the veins beneath her skin; her arms looked alarmingly thin, and the loads of life and cheer that the usually had were nowhere to be found.

"Maya!" he shouted, and ran to her bedside. Back near the entrance, Dick couldn't help but ask the doctor a question.

"Are you sure she is stable? It doesn't look it to me."

"Let a professional assure you, there may be a lot of devices involved, but yes, at the moment, she is stable, with almost no risk of a sudden disaster happening right now."

"Almost none?"

"Mr. Gumshoe, medicine is not an exact science. Nothing is ever guaranteed, and unexpected events can happen. People can die from the most common and ordinary conditions, and can survive ones that you would think were a death sentence. I would be lying if I guaranteed you anything. That is a code that doctors have to learn to live by. They can do everything they can, but the results can always turn out differently, for better or for worse."

The detective remained silent after that, while Phoenix tried to speak to his friend.

"Maya," he begged, "Please speak to me! Tell me something! Please!"

The girl remained quiet, but eventually, a very weak voice pierced the veil of silence in the room.

"Ph-Ph-Phoe-Phoenix….." she stuttered "Ph-Phoenix… Wh-wh-what h-h-h-h-happened?"

"You were trying to channel Mia, but then, you had a seizure, and began coughing up blood, and, well, now…..you're here….at the hospital."

Her barely open eyes held a blank stare, and he wasn't sure if what he said actually got through to her.

"Phoenix…. " she started again "I…..I….don't …. f-f-feel right."

How was he supposed to respond to that? Of course she wouldn't feel right. She was dying…

Dick stepped forward from the entrance and stood next to Maya's bed, trying to comfort her.

"You're going to be alright, Maya. Don't you worry. You'll be in tip-top shape in no time." The detective tried to reassure her. But nobody's words seemed to be reaching her.

"Phoe-Phoenix…. I-I-I- d-d-on't…. h-help me….b-b-before….p-p-please…..it's…" After that, she trailed off into a frail and sluggish stream of incoherent babble.

Phoenix couldn't stand to see her like this. He briskly walked out of the room with his head low.

_I should be ashamed, _he thought. _I'm a terrible, no, absolutely deplorable friend. I can't even stand by Maya when she needs me._

Dick and Dr. Molnadono soon came out of the room. The doctor walked them both a few paces away from the pale brown door of sadness and suffering, and began to speak to them.

"Mr. Wright and Mr. Gumshoe," he said, "I know things seem very dire. But there is a prodigious terminal illness specialist I know. I don't know what she could do, or if she could help, but these are the actions the families of patients often take in times like these. If something doesn't work, you can rest with the fact of knowledge that you tried your best. If she finds something that works, than you have yourself a miracle. As long as Maya remains stable for a few more days and can be removed from breathing assistance devices, then we can discharge her, albeit there will be a lot of medications and prescriptions accompanying her, and you can take her to an appointment."

Phoenix didn't hesitate at the opportunity.

"Yes, I want Maya to see this doctor. Anything for her!"

"Well, the only downside to the situation is that her practice is in Wales."

"Japan, Wales, Brazil, I don't care where I have to go if it means somebody can help Maya!" The possibility that his friend just might be able to be saved restored all the energy and enthusiasm that he had lost, spreading throughout his body like a raging wildfire.

_It's my fault that she's like this,_ he thought. _I must make it up to her. Maya, I will not fail you. I would walk to the ends of the earth, the galaxy, and the universe if it means I could save you._

"But Phoenix," Dick commented. "Wales is far… And you're not exactly rich."

Phoenix turned to him furiously, pounding his hand against the white hall's wall.

"I can make due! I earned a lot of money working on that last case. I have the money and we'll get by. If this means saving Maya, I would pay every dollar I've ever made and ever will make. Whatever the cost is, it doesn't matter to me."

"We, as in, me too?"

"You're a friend, and you've already done so much. I'd assume you want to come anyways."

"I certainly would," Dick replied "I'd like to help in any way I possibly can. If that means flying overseas, then so be it." He shifted his position slightly, and leaned up against another gray reception counter.

"So then it's settled," the doctor interjected. "I will set Maya up an appointment with Dr. Gwendolyn Dewaf. Her practice is known but not huge, so, actually, I can schedule one as early as in a few weeks' time."

"Sounds great," Phoenix cheered. "As soon as you do, please call me." He gave the doctor his phone number. "Give me an address, and some help with the area, if you could, and my friends and I will purchase some plane tickets, pack our luggage, and be all set"

The defense attorney then darted down the corridor and back out to the parking lot, nearly tripping himself in his bout of determination and renewed hope. The pudgy detective clumsily followed him at a somewhat slower speed. You could almost smell the optimism in the air.


	5. Standing By Your Side

It was a quarter after four in the morning when Phoenix and Dick left North End Hospital. The ride home in the defense attorney's sedan was peacefully quiet, but the air in the car stirred with a clashing mix of melancholy and optimism.

Phoenix pulled up to his driveway, relieved that he could finally go back inside his own home and sleep for the night. The burst of energy that had come with Dr. Molnadono's mentioning of a specialist who just might be able to save Maya's life had lost its battle with the blanket of exhaustion that smothered anyone at such a late hour.

"Car ride's over, buddy," he said to Dick in between yawns, gently shaking him.

The detective woke with a start, smacking the back of his head off his headrest.

"Ouch….," he complained, rubbing the sore spot. "Ok, I'll talk to you in the morning."

Phoenix nodded in agreement, leaned over, and pushed open the passenger door for the still sleepy man, who unsteadily got out, made his way to his car, and drove home. Dick had seemed incredibly tired, so just to be safe in the event that another accident might happen, Phoenix watched as his old, rusty pickup nearly wove down the street.

When he finally trudged up his front steps and apprehensively open the front door, he couldn't help but wish everything that happened was all a bad dream, and the scene that was about to appear before him would be one of his celebration.

But the room was the same as it was when he left it: cake and chips were knocked on the floor from when the paramedics bumped the table on their way out, Dick's jacket was still messily draped across the armchair, and the couch was still…

Phoenix preferred not to finish the thought, instead jumping to another.

_I ought to make sure that Edgeworth took good care of Trucy and Pearl._

He kicked off his black dress shoes, tried to rub the tiredness out of his eyes, and strode down the hallway toward Trucy's room, where he found Miles passed out on the young girl's bed, with Pearl on one side of him and Trucy on the other. With disheveled hair and quiet but noticeable snoring, he looked rather devoid of most of the dignity and prestige that he flaunted in the courtroom,

_At least he got them to fall asleep, even if they're not in their pajamas.. And perhaps I would have even found this funny, if it weren't for what recently happened._

Miles stirred, and with a half open, sleepy eye, noticed his rival had returned.

"It's about time," his voiced croaked. "Is Maya okay? Did anyone at the hospital know what's wrong with her?"

Phoenix put a finger to his lips, and quietly whispered:

"Let's talk in the kitchen so we don't wake the girls."

Miles felt stupid for a moment.

"Right."

The prosecutor got up, smoothed out his red wrinkled suit, and headed to the kitchen. Phoenix kissed Trucy and Pearl goodnight lightly on their foreheads, threw a large, woolen blanket over them, shut off the room light, and followed Miles.

"They don't know what's wrong," Phoenix said, leaning over the kitchen island, "besides the fact that it's terminal. But one of the doctors there referred me to a specialist they knew, who might be able to help Maya."

Edgeworth put his elbows down, and rested his head in his hands for a moment, comprehending what he heard.

"This specialist….Do you really think they can help?" He asked.

"It's better than nothing… Otherwise, her fate is sealed…. And if worst comes to worst, at least I tried something."

"That's true. So, do you have any plans on when to go?"

"Well, the only thing is that they're in Wales. But I'll do anything for Maya. And I was told that an appointment could be booked for a few weeks ahead, so we'll be leaving soon."

"And by we, who exactly do you mean?"

"Maya, Dick, and I. I'd have to find somebody to watch the girls; I really don't want to put them through any more turmoil than they've already been through, and I'm sure this trip would be exactly that. Actually, do you maybe think you can watch them?"

"And you did not ever consider the idea that I care for Maya and may want to come too?"

Phoenix was rather surprised that both Miles and Dick wanted to come. It was one thing for Dick to come with him to the hospital, or for Miles to watch Pearl and Trucy for a while. But taking off work, buying an expensive plane ticket, and flying across an ocean for somebody? That was a considerable friendship, something that Phoenix wasn't fully aware he ever had with them, always more or less acknowledging his relations with them as respectful rivalries and acquaintanceships instead.

Phoenix made a low chuckle.

"Well, I know you're concerned for her, but I didn't imagine you being that concerned," he said.

The prosecutor suddenly stood up tall from his position and crossed him arms, his gray hair swaying with an invisible wind. Phoenix had seen him make this gesture so many times, often in an act of intimidation and haughtiness, but for some reason, this time it was humble and calming.

"Phoenix, I am far from the smartest person in the world. But I have learned many lessons in life, some harder than others. When I first began my career, winning was my priority, and every time I was involved in a trial, I longed for the moment that the judge would should "Guilty!". I could not wait to see criminals convicted and punished for their wrongs, the looks of defeat and desperation on their faces. I loved winning and putting the scum of society behind bars. But I've come to realize, there is more to life than winning and punishing. Now, I long to do what is right. If winning means convicting someone innocent, then I would rather lose, and such events are not limited to law. There is winning and losing in all walks of life. And Wright, this is something you deserve to win, and I plan to help you. Whether it is an act of respect for a rival, or a thank you for what our battles in court have taught me, I plan to help as much as I can."

"…..Thanks, Miles. It means a lot to me. When others are by you side to help, it eases the burden. I'm glad that there are people in my life willing to do that. But then my only question is who can watch the girls?"

"Take them along," he suggested.

"That's insane. I don't want them going through any more stress. They'll know we're not flying overseas for some little vacation when Maya has just been in the hospital." Phoenix was tired, wanted to go to bed, and certainly did not want to get into a debate.

"It'll teach them to have strength, to be strong in the face of adversity."

"But I still don't think that totally-"

"I'll pay for everyone's tickets."

Phoenix perked up upon hearing the offer.

_That's incredibly generous of him….And even with the money from the last case, my salary still isn't anything compared to his, _he thought.

"Okay. I'll let them come. I have a feeling that they'd insist on coming anyways, and beg and harass me until I allowed them to."

"Knowing those two, that sounds about right. In the morning, let me know exactly where in Wales we're headed, and I'll get all the tickets and airport registrations squared away. But for now, get some sleep and try to hold on to your sanity." Miles ended his sentence with a hint of encouragement in his tone of voice.

With the conversation now over, Miles walked to the door, put on his shoes, and went outside to his car. Phoenix lumbered down the hallway and collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to change his clothes.


	6. Some Truths Are Better Not Known

"…..Miss Magnolia, I don't understand why it happened either. Nobody does. Not even the doctors….No, like I just said, they don't know what's wrong with her, but they believe that it's….terminal."

Phoenix shifted his position as he cradled the telephone between his ear and shoulder to allow to himself to continue packing his suitcase and speak with Magnolia Wilvris, the girl Maya had left in charge at the Kurain Village. Dr. Molnadono had called him earlier in the morning, about two hours before, and told him the specifics of Maya's appointment and where the office was. Phoenix figured that it would be best to let Maya have a few days of rest in Wales before the appointment, and the appointment was in a week, so he and the rest of the group were leaving the following day. One of the last things he had to do was make a few phone calls.

He knew that breaking the news to whoever was in charge at the Kurain Village would be hard, but Magnolia was especially upset. He couldn't blame her, however; Maya had told him a few times that she had become close friends with her.

"…...Once again, I'm so sorry about all of this. I feel terrible…..Please calm down, Miss Magnolia. Ranting and screaming will not help the situation…...Thank you; keeping a cool head will benefit everybody..…A few hours ago I spoke with a doctor from a local hospital. He set Maya up an appointment with a specialist…...In Porthcawl, Wales….Yes, I know it's far, but the doctor I spoke to said that she may be able to help."

He tossed a few more pairs of socks in along with another shirt and pair of pants, and then walked over to his closet to withdraw a few more articles of clothing.

"….No, I don't know how long we'll be …..We'll be leaving tomorrow; the appointment is in a week…..No, I have no idea how it was possible to book it so soon… But we want her to be acclimated and less stressed before she goes to it, and she is being discharged tonight.…Yes, I know she's not exactly in shape to, but they can't do anything for her here…..Please listen to me, they can't do _anything _here….No, I don't need any help; a friend of mine already paid a very handsome price for everyone's plane tickets….I'm positively sure….Please, keep it to help provide for yourself."

Into the suitcase went a few vests and a jacket, and outside his room, a few clumsy banging noises could be heard. However, Phoenix was too focused on the conversation to hear them.

"….Of course. I'll call as soon as I learn anything….No problem, you just stay calm and keep watch over all the younger girls, it's a very difficult time for everyone..….Thank you, it's a great comfort knowing she's in your prayers. I promise to do everything I possibly can for her…..…"

The conversation continued, but Trucy's confidence in her ability to eavesdrop was wavering. At least twice as she leaned up against the wall outside Phoenix's room and strained her ears to listen, she had thought that he was going to walk out and catch her, and in a small fit of nervousness, accidentally hit the wall with her hands.

But she had heard a good chunk of the conversation, and that was enough for her.

_Daddy said a trip would help Mystic Maya feel better, but this sounds like something different, _she thought. _He said everything would be fine, but I don't know if it sounds like that…._

She mentally scolded herself for her thoughts.

_How can I not trust Daddy? Maya must really be going to be okay, if he, Mr. Gumshoe, and all say that. I'm sorry I didn't believe you two at first…_

Even if her faith in Maya's condition had been restored, there were still a few aspects of the conversation that intrigued her. She ran down the hall to her room.

Pearl was sitting on her bed clutching the woolen blanket, having just woken up a little while ago. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her clothes were wrinkled from sleeping in them, and her overall appearance suggested that she was still physically a wreck, but a gleam of hope in the poor girl's eyes suggested that she was in better spirits than the night before. A few warm and brilliant rays of sun shone in through a window on the wall, and they helped to lighten her mood. A bright yellow suitcase that Phoenix had packed for Trucy earlier that morning sat on the carpet, with Pearl's still mostly full duffel bag of belongings next to it.

Trucy plopped on the bed next to her, her red hat falling off as she did. Pearl turned to her, and in a tired voice asked:

"Where were you?"

"Listening to Daddy talk to somebody at your village."

"Trucy! You shouldn't have done that. Eavesdropping isn't nice." The girl may have still only been a child, but she was raised with manners and discipline.

"Well if you don't want to know what they were talking about, then I won't tell you. But there were some parts that I'm not sure about.

"Like what?"

"You said listening wasn't nice, so why should I even tell you?" Trucy was partly teasing her, but also annoyed. She thought Pearl would be happy that she was trying to discover the truth about her sister.

"Trucy, please tell me. This is important." The poor girl started to look desperate.

"Fine. Well, he told this girl, Magnolia, that we were going to Wales so that Maya could see a specialist. Is that a kind of doctor or something?"

Pearl nodded. Not only was she disciplined, but also well-educated for her age.

"Ok, so then I guess this specialist is going to get Maya to feel better. He also said we're leaving tomorrow, and that Magnolia would be in charge at the village for at least a month."

Pearl stayed silent and nodded her head, motioning her to continue.

"Daddy also said that the doctor told him it was something called terminal."

As soon as those words left Trucy's mouth, the placid expression on Pearl's face turned to one of shock and grief.

"Pearl?" Trucy gently nudged her friend.

But Pearl stayed quiet and stared blankly into space.

"Pearl?" Trucy nudged her again. "Please Pearl, what is it? Don't tell me…."

"Trucy?" Pearl asked her friend, with a voice that had the volume of a pin drop, the strength of a feather in the breeze, and the confidence of a child on their first day of school.

"Does it mean…?"

"…..Yes."

A fog of silence descended into the room with Phoenix's conversation just barely audible in the background. Not any ordinary fog, but one that choked and strangled, that gagged and smothered, and that broke and shattered not just their ability to speak, but any hope that Phoenix's, Dick's, and Miles's lies had instilled in them. It wasn't until a few minutes later than one of them dared to speak.

"Pearl, I don't want to cry. I'm not going to cry anymore. I'm going to be strong….for Maya. I'm going to be strong here, and strong in Wales, and strong wherever we go. 'Cause one time Phoenix told me something. He told me to always have faith. If you don't have faith, then you don't have anything. But if you have faith, then it can do amazing things. And so that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to have faith."

Her friend said nothing at first. But then finally, her voice broke the silence.

"Me too."

_Perhaps, _Pearl thought, _sometimes, it just might be better to lie. I would have wanted to know the truth, but Mr. Nick, I don't think you did anything wrong._

Just then, Phoenix popped his head into their room, donning what was most certainly a false smile.

"Remember girls," he said, "we're going to the airport tomorrow. So don't stay up too late tonight! You want to have a lot of energy to see Maya get better, don't you?"

Both of the girls also faked smiles and nodded. Phoenix would never know that Trucy eavesdropped, and they would never let him know. He would forever be under the impression that they thought everything was ok. But now that they knew the truth, they wondered how they ever could have been deceived by what the three men had told them. Everything that they said now seemed so obviously phony.

"Oh," he continued, "and if there's anything else you want to bring, make sure you pack it! Pearl, you already have mostly everything ready, and Trucy, I put together your suitcase for you, except for a few things I thought you might like to get together yourself. I just have to make a few more phone calls and put a message on the answering machine for any possible clients that happen to call. I want you girls to finish getting ready too!" He didn't give them time to respond and instead ran down the hall to the kitchen, the sound of a phone's dial tone following him, and then his voice asking Miles about hotel arrangements.

_Daddy,_ Trucy thought, _I'll be as brave as I can, but I don't know if I'll ever be ready._

_Mr. Nick,_ Pearl thought, w_hatever happens….I know you'll do the right thing. _


	7. In the Face of Opposition

**Two Days Earlier**

Rosa quietly treaded down the narrow castle hallway, carrying a large, lengthy, black-hilted and blood-stained sword with one hand, and an old, tarnished dagger with the other. As she moved, broken sets of chains dangled and swayed from her wrists and ankles, and the loose ends of her black, gold trimmed suit dragged on the floor beneath her. An occasional breeze from one of the castle's numerous broken windows and holes in the walls wafted through the room and lifted up her large, baggy sleeves, exposing the vibrant red color they had on the inside.

_Five hundred and ninety four years here,_ she thought, _and I am still no more important here than a speck of dust. Is running errands and serving others all I'm ever destined to do?_

Not that it was a necessarily bad fate, though. It was actually probably one of the most peaceful and merciful afterlives an Umbra Witch could ever hope for. Most, as an old friend of hers put it, ran around "scared shitless for eternity", and with complete justification. The Inferno was a savage and barbarous realm, where violence and brutality reigned. The only ways to escape the high possibility of bloodshed and torture were by being incredibly powerful and ferocious yourself, which was a tactic that was almost exclusively employed by demons, or by serving the mighty Queen Sheba, which was the more feasible route.

Rosa was certainly strong and talented enough to fend for herself.

_But I never want to fight again,_ she thought. _Not after the part I played in the Witches' and Sages' downfall and the Clan Wars. To know how many died because of my selfishness…... I would rather live a life of servitude than ever spill blood again._

She continued down the hall towards the weapon's room, where she had been ordered to put the sword and dagger. She kept her gaze to the area straight ahead, not wanting to see the disturbing pictures carved in the walls and the severed heads mounted to them.

"Rosa, you are a coward."

That was what Madama Khepri told Rosa when she first arrived and had told the demoness that she hadn't the will to constantly war, kill, and murder. Her life had been filled with enough of it, and now she only wished for peace, if such a thing even existed in the Inferno.

"You're not the Witch I made a pact with. Where is your spirit and vigor, you ambition and strength? Without them, you are no greater than the feeble and worthless humans who find their way down here."

Those words still bothered her, even now.

"Someday, somehow, I will prove to you that I still am." That was all she had to say back to Madama Khepri, before walking away from her across a steppe of rugged, scorched land littered with bones.

_Yet I still haven't proven anything._

She took a left turn at the end of the hall, and right after the corner was the door to the weapons room. Her hand rested on the dark, obsidian knob, about to turn it, when she heard a conversation coming from a ways down the hall. Curious, she walked in the direction of the voices, stopping a few paces before a doorway to one of the high servants' quarters.

"If you think that the best way to defeat an entire army is by rushing into battle against it, then you are beyond senseless. You are the most idiotic and hopeless creature I have ever had the misfortune to be acquainted with."

Rosa recognized the harsh voice immediately. It belonged to Lady Armatida, one of Queen Sheba's closest advisors. She had never seen her in person, only having heard of the unprecedented yet ingenious strategies and tactics that she employed to assist in the continuation of Queen Sheba's eons long reign. Armatida was less a physical presence and force in the Inferno, and more so a sly, robust and cruel phantom whose words and deeds wandered the vast expanse of it.

"Well, than what do you suggest? It's not as if," a smooth, unfamiliar voice said, "I'm overestimating my abilities."

"You certainly are. You and your foolish followers are nothing compared to an entire army. Your cockiness is so pungent and obvious, I'm sure everyone in this entire castle would rather kill themselves than smell it."

"I don't go out of my way to speak to people just to be insulted. Especially," the voice added, "if I am already owed a favor. If you are going to tell me something useful, then do it now. Otherwise, I will be leaving." Rosa heard feet shuffle and come close to the open doorway.

_Damn it, _she thought, instantly making a silent and graceful run back to the weapons room. She briskly opened the door, stepped inside, shut the door, and put the sword and the dagger in a large crate with a variety of other weapons. She stood in a damp, dark corner of the room to ensure that if anybody happened to look inside the door's pitifully small window, she would be out of their line of sight.

The door muffled a lot of sound, but she could still vaguely hear parts of the conversation as Armatida and her acquaintance walked down the hallway and past the weapons room.

"Find someone… …..assistance…inside out….Sheba…stop…..them…."

"Followers…..knowledge ….will do….."

"Only way…"

"No…..to worry…."

_Find who? _Rosa thought. _Assistance for Queen Sheba to stop somebody? Why didn't Armatida take this issue to the queen herself? And who is she talking to?_

Soon Rosa could no longer hear any voices, so she opened the door and stepped back out into the hallway with curiosity and relief.

_I think I'll be keeping tabs on those two._

* * *

><p>Phoenix walked down his driveway to the shiny black mailbox standing at the end of it. It was about two in the afternoon; the mail should have just been delivered.<p>

Sure enough, the red post was down, and a few letters waited inside the box for him. He picked them up and sorted through them, grunting at the realization that most of them were junk.

But one caught his eye. It was addressed in handwriting to him from the Bar Association. He instantly knew what the letter's contents would be, and anguish spread itself across his face.

_I should have known I was done for._

Phoenix slowly tore open the letter, the ripping sound of the paper painful to his ears, the weight of worry crushing him. Eventually his shaking and unsteady fingers managed to get the letter out of the envelope and unfold it.

_Mr. Phoenix Wright,_

_ We regret to inform you that due to you recent misconduct and presentation of forged evidence during the trial of Zak Gramarye, you are relieved of your status and duties as a lawyer. Any further actions you attempt to take as such will be considered illegal and punishable under federal law._

_ Celia Manick, President of the Bar Association_

"NO!" Phoenix screamed, and flailed his arms. He swiveled his head around, looking for the terrible, spirit-crushing letter, when he noticed that he was not standing outside in his driveway, but sitting in a very uncomfortable chair on an American Airlines Boeing 737, with a few disgruntled and irritated stares directed at him. Miles sat asleep in the seat in from of him with Trucy to his left. Maya and Pearl sat across the row from them.

_It was just a nightmare, albeit a very real one. _

"Whoa pal, are you ok?"

Phoenix turned his head again to see Dick sitting next time him, in the seat closest to the airplane's window. Now he remembered where he was: in the middle of a ten and a half hour flight to Wales.

Before he could think of something to say to Dick, his thoughts turned to Maya.

The poor girl had a rough night. She was discharged from North End Hospital at 8:00 P.M. When Phoenix went to pick her up, she was coherent and talked somewhat, but was still incredibly weak. It pained him to see her have to use a walker, even with his assistance, to get to his sedan. What pained him even more was the amount of medication he had to help her take before she went to bed and when she got up in the morning from her fitful and uneasy sleep.

_And said that was just to suppress the pain and agony. But surely, Dr. Dewab-_

"Phoenix, are you ok? Dick shook his friend on the shoulder. "You look like you just had a nightmare," the detective said, interrupting his thought.

Phoenix nodded his head, slightly annoyed. "I just did. And it seemed…so real. I was disbarred for presenting forged evidence."

"Well," Dick sheepishly scratched the back of his head "everybody gets them sometimes. I'm sure it's nothing." He turned away to gaze out the Boeing's window, but shifted his view from it at the sight of a mass of dark, ominous storm clouds and at the deep sounding of rumbles of thunder.

"But it was strange, Dick. It had to do with Zak's Gramamyre's trial. A real trial that-"

"Attention all passengers," a monotonous voice echoed throughout the cabin via a speaker, "we have just entered an area with unanticipated turbulence. Please stay calm until we exit the area. I repeat, please stay-

Suddenly, a powerful crash against the side of the Boeing rocked the cabin.

"What the heck? Dick exclaimed to Phoenix. "I've flown many times, but never has it gotten-"

"Do not worry," the voice began again "our pilots are highly trained in every aspect of aviation and know the necessary protocol to handle this type of-"

A second, even more forceful impact jolted the plane, and carry-on luggage and suitcases from the Boeing's upper chamber fell out onto the floor, scattering their contents everywhere. Pearl managed to catch her little pink bag and plush Pikachu.

The strength of both hits had nearly knocked Miles and Trucy out of their seats. Phoenix looked and saw Pearl holding onto her bag and tightly hugging Maya, who seemed too tired and exhausted to understand what was going on. Trucy started to ask Miles what was wrong, and he quickly answered her; his response inaudible to Phoenix with the amount clamor in the cabin, along with the intense volume of it.

_This doesn't feel like turbulence. It feels like something is actually hitting the plane!_

Then the cabin lights went out, and with the miniscule amount of sunlight that penetrated through the storm clouds outside, the inside of the plane became very dark. A chorus of screams sounded out; Phoenix heard Trucy's and Pearl's voices among it. Bolts of lightning shot down from the sky, and during each of their brief but very frequent flashes, he could see people beginning to truly panic.

"The appropriate actions are being taken to address the situation," the automated voice continued. "We request that everybody aboard remain in their seats until the issue is resolved."

Everyone in the cabin felt a slight, downward lurch. Phoenix's ears popped and he was struck by a wave of dizziness and nausea. He saw most of the people around him suffer the same.

"This is either a really bad storm," he heard someone say, "or those pilots have no idea what they are doing."

"Where the hell is the stewardess?" Another person cried out.

As another bolt of lightning flashed, Phoenix saw a tall, middle aged, African American man with an orange jacket get out of his seat and run toward the front of the plane with a trail of extremely loud and obscene profanity following him.

"It is in everyone's best interest that all remain calm and in their seats," the robotic voice rung out again. "The situation is under control and-"

"The situation is obviously not under control," a creaky and raspy voice spat in the darkness. One could suddenly hear torrents of rain beating down on the Boeing's exterior.

Pearl whipped around in her seat, the blue magatama around her neck swinging wildly, and looked at him. Her eyes were squinted to protect themselves from the pain of the constantly flashing lightning

"Mr. Nick? What's wrong with the plane?" Phoenix saw her choppily in between flashes put her hand to her forehead in pain as the plane slowly but surely continued to lose altitude. A brief but perfectly timed glimpse out the window behind her showed a large piece of the plane breaking off and flying away.

"I don't know!" He shouted back, but his words were lost in a sea of noise as a deafening and shattering sound came from the cockpit and a third, ungodly strong crash shook the whole plane. At that moment, it jerked into a sudden, high speed and uncontrolled nosedive. Nearly every person on the flight screamed, and some ran to the pilots' area, ignoring the instructions from the automated voice. Maya tried desperately and with all of her little might to get up and yell something to Phoenix, but her voice cracked, she coughed frantically, and with the weight of gravity, fell forward into the seat in front of her. Pearl turned back to her cousin and grabbed her in an effort to keep her from falling to the floor, struggling against gravity herself.

At this point, the system running the announcer had broken, and the only sounds coming from the plane's speakers were completely garbled and incomprehensible blips, screeches, and other mechanical noises.

"Phoenix!" Dick bellowed above the ruckus, whilst quickly rising from his seat and motioning toward the front end of the Boeing.

He immediately knew what he meant.

"Miles!" Phoenix screeched. "Watch the kids!"

The prosecutor turned around, fiercely gripping his seat as Trucy hugged his waist, and looked at Phoenix with a startled expression, realizing what he was planning to do.

"You can't be serious. You know how dangerous that is?"

"Somebody has to do something! Who knows what just happened to the pilots? This thing is going to crash and kill us all if nobody does anything!" Phoenix gave no time for his friend to answer and darted out into the aisle with the detective in pursuit.

Miles saw that there was no point in arguing with him, grabbed Trucy by the shoulder and rushed her over to where Pearl and Maya still were, bumping people in the aisle along the way.

"Your courage," he shouted across the distance, "is questionable, but admirable!"

Phoenix turned his head back to see his friend huddling the girls together. As an exceptionally bright and blinding bolt of lightning struck the outside of the plane, he tripped and stumbled into the door leading to the cockpit. Feet trampled his arms and legs.

"Get up, you idiot!" It was the man with the orange jacket from before. "Before we all die!" He then grabbed the gray door handle and pulled furiously; Phoenix sprang up, and he, Dick, and a few joined in the man's efforts, but the door was stuck. He yanked at the handle with all his strength and the skin on his hands and underneath his nails was beginning to crack and bleed from the force, but the door stayed shut. Finally, after many failed attempts, the group made one last ditch tug with every ounce of willpower in their bodies, and the door flew off its hinges and down the aisle, clattering and almost striking frantic passengers.

Phoenix sprinted into the cockpit, only to be thrown against a wall by the bitter, whipping wind and rain flooding in from an enormous hole in the windshield. The pressure in the cockpit was dropping fast, he could barely breathe, and his vision was becoming fuzzy. His heart pounded, and he felt as if every vessel in his body was going to burst. The rest of the group had rushed in after him, but had been similarly incapacitated by the violent weather.

_We're not going to make it._

He put his hand to his chest in pain, and crumpled to the floor when suddenly, someone put an oxygen mask to his face. He looked up, and through his blurry vision, saw a young man with wavy brown hair, a black hat and glasses, and a cowboy-esque outfit also wearing an oxygen mask that dangled from the ceiling. Phoenix still felt horrible, but now he could manage to move about.

With no time for words, he struggled to the pilots' chairs as the man helped the others crippled by the loss of pressure, and smelled something noxious.

Both the pilots were profusely bleeding out on the floor in front of their chairs, most certainly dead if not close. One had lengthy slashes going down the front of his jacket, arms, face, and neck, while the other suffered from deep wounds all over his body. The controls were completely saturated with blood and other bodily fluids, and out of the corner of his eye, Phoenix saw the stewardess's body in the far corner of the cockpit twisted, bent, and contorted at horrific angles, her neck clearly broken.

_This is no accident or malfunction, _he thought. _This is murder!_

"Altitude is below one thousand feet," a mechanical voice spoke. "Decrease speed to a safe level."

Phoenix clutched the torn and tattered leather of one of the chairs to keep from being blown back and tried to grab the steering lever, the only part of the controls he could identify, but the rain and wind burned his eyes, and he accidentally swiped it downward, sending the plane into a sudden upward spin. Both the pilots' bodies rolled backwards to the other end of the compartment, his tie flapped uncontrollably in the gale that the plane's movement produced.

"Altitude changes are occurring at an unsafe speed," another monotonous voice rang out in the cockpit.

The cowboy man appeared at his side again, along with Dick and a woman dressed in glitter from head to toe.

Dick grabbed the steering lever, and with a better hold on it and a chair than Phoenix had, strained to even out the Boeing's level of flight.

An extremely strong blast of wind blew in and succeeded in sending the cowboy man out of the cockpit and back to where the rest of the passengers were.

"Ground!" The glitzy woman shouted through her mask, barely hanging on to a chair. "We're getting close to the ground!" The intense rain stung her skin and her mascara ran, turning her face into a black, sloppy mess.

Dick started yelling, his oxygen mask obscuring his voice. "The landing gear, Phoenix! Find it! We're still descending way too quickly, and without wheels to land on, it's going to be bad!" His grip on the lever was slipping, his face cut from broken glass flying in the cockpit and his coat and pants bathed in the blood that had sprayed from the pilots' bodies.

_The landing gear? What the hell does that look like?_

His eyes darted from button to lever to screen, looking for anything that could be the gear. He spotted a white, clunky switch on the far side of the control panel with the letters LG below it.

_This better be it!_

He dashed to it and yanked it, changing the switch's position. Immediately a low-pitched, terrible grinding noise resonated throughout the entire plane.

"Be ready, Phoenix! In just a few seconds-"

The plane struck concrete, its landing wheels having come out just in time. But with the wet conditions and poor traction on the ground, it had been traveling far too speedily to land safely. The impact sent a shockwave throughout its whole body; the metal walls began to tear apart in tiny sections and separate. The wind carried a rainy mix of rocks and debris into the cockpit, destroying the rest of the wind shield and perforating the walls. Phoenix hung onto the control panel for dear life, blood running from a multitude of cuts and scrapes that his bodies had sustained, his blue suit spotted dark red and black.

The plane was slowing down, but not in a hasty enough way. The rain may have just stopped, but with the amound of water on the concrete, it was essentially hydroplaning. The cockpit's floor broke away beneath him, and he frantically shuffled to find safe footing. The concrete underneath the plane blurred before his eyes at a breathtaking pace; if anyone were to accidentally fall out of the plane and strike it, they would be a mere spatter on the ground.

A ghastly creaking noise sounded throughout the plane, and an explosion went off in one of the fuel tanks, setting parts of the plane ablaze and flipping it on its side. The blast slowed it down dramatically, but also caused the Boeing to begin to break into three parts, the last of which was engulfed in flames.

"Dick, we've got to get out of here!"

A sheet of metal flew by and narrowly missed Phoenix's head.

"Hold on! I'm trying to stop it" Dick retorted.

The glamorous woman was helping him steady the lever, and searching for any controls that would prove to be useful.

"We don't have time to!" Phoenix shouted in fear.

Suddenly, the stretch of concrete ended and turned into a grassy field. An extremely large rock came into view, and the plane slammed into it head on. The force broke the last bonds between the three separating parts, and Dick, Phoenix, and the woman were thrown backwards into the air, their masks briskly ripped away from their faces.

_I'm going to die, _he brooded. _ I just know it. Nobody survives calamities like this._

His body was five, fifteen, twenty-five, now thirty-five feet in the air. The sudden stop from the rock hadn't given him a very large trajectory, and already his body began to fall towards the ground, still moving backwards at an alarming rate. The other pieces of the plane were slowly bumping along the grassy, rocky, and uneven ground; the whole scene was lit up, courtesy of the fire from the explosion.

…_.Maya, I'm sorry. Trucy, I'm sorry. Pearl, I'm sorry. Miles, I'm sorry. Dick, I'm sorry. Everybody on this plane, I'm sorry. I'm the sorriest person that could ever be. I'll die sorry and ashamed…._

His body was coming closer and closer to the ground.

_It's over._

It had been all over, until, in the yellow light of the flames, in the sound of screams and wails, in the taste of blood in his mouth, in the scent of smoke and rubber burning, and in the soon to be touch of his soaking wet body striking the ground and breaking, somebody grabbed his hand.


	8. Hwyl Fawr

"Police are still investigating the horrendous crash of American Airlines Flight 455," said a thickly accented, masculine voice.

_What?_ Phoenix thought.

"At around 4:20 PM, on September twenty fourth, the Boeing 747 sustained critical damage while in route to the Cardiff International Airport from the Los Angeles International Airport."

_Huh?_

"Reports reveal that the plane was caught in a severe thunderstorm, lost power, and suffered a loss of its vertical stabilizer and part of its right wing prior to entering an out of control nosedive. Analysis of parts recovered from the crash site show numerous blows were made against the body of the plane."

_This sounds familiar._

"Pilots Vicky Dasalin and Brutus Chadwick along with stewardess Cynthia Gutierrez were all found brutally murdered in the cockpit. However, according to multiple survivor reports, no passengers had entered the cockpit prior to the plane spiraling out of control, and no potential murder weapons or traces of them were salvaged from the rubble."

_Really familiar._

"Press releases from multiple expert sources state that there is no possibility for a suspect to have entered the aircraft from the outside, despite teams concluding that the plane's windshield was smashed shortly before control was lost. In an action of caution, both Wales and the United States have classified the crash as an act of terrorism and have temporarily cancelled all flights entering and exiting their borders."

_Wait, who is this talking?_

"Five passengers reportedly entered the cockpit in an attempt to land the plane safely, but were unable to properly stabilize it. Although efforts to land it safely were unsuccessful, it is believed that had these unidentified passengers not intervened, the plane's trajectory would have taken them straight into the Bristol Channel."

_Is this…are they….talking about…me? And Dick? And the man in the orange jacket? And the glitter girl and the cowboy?_

"This is all the information investigative teams have gathered; they are currently in search of the plane's black box, which will reveal much more about the events onboard Flight 455."

_Wait! Is this real? It can't be. Who survives plane wrecks like that? This must be a really bad dream._

Phoenix's eyes slowly fluttered open to the sight of a heavy, Welsh news anchor on a TV screen across the room from him. The picture was blurry and fuzzy, and on top of the hard to comprehend speech, the TV constantly emitted an irritating buzzing sound.

_So it was real! I did remember a crash, but to think it actually happened…. I'm just glad I'm not dead._

He was in a stark white hospital room. It was decorated sparsely, with a small digital clock and a picture of a vase of flowers on the west wall and a few green chairs in the corner, plus a bed, cabinets, and other medical necessities. A large window on the east wall would have allowed gallons of sunshine to pour into the room through it if only the day hadn't been so dreary.

Phoenix groggily sat up with his hands and arms supporting him on his bed, only to be greeted by a sharp and stinging sensation in his neck and right wrist. His first reaction was screaming a short stream of garbled moans and cries of pain, followed by him falling back onto his bed. Almost immediately, Trucy entered the room and briskly walked over to him.

"Daddy," she whispered, her red scarf brushing against his neck and her words a refreshing break from his stretch of unconsciousness, "are you okay? You were asleep for a long time. Everybody's been coming here every day, waiting for you to wake up. And then you screamed. And…." She got back up and leaned against the wall behind his bed, nearly knocking over an IV pole.

_Every day? How long have I been out for?_

"Daddy's fine, sweetie," he rasped, not turning his head in fear of experiencing another bout of pain. "I'm just hurting a little. But I'll be just dandy. Are you okay? How about everyone else?

"Yeah, Daddy; we're….fine."

Miles walked into the room wearing a red short sleeved polo shirt and khaki shorts, a rather informal outfit for him. Bandages were wrapped around the entirety of his left arm and hand, the midsection of his left arm, and down his right calf. He took a seat in one of the chairs and assumed a position that spoke of relief and gratitude.

"Wright." He spoke, "Sometimes I had thought you were a goner. But you're alright. Or at least I thought you were, until I heard you scream."

"T-that was nothing. I had just tried to sit up, and I guess I'm more injured than I feel."

"Well, I'm not surprised. Somebody found you one hundred feet from the plane's rubble."

"A hundred feet? How did I survive? How did anybody survive the wreck, if I remember it correctly?" Phoenix turned on his side, trying to keep the pain in his neck from becoming overwhelming.

"Are you sure you want to talk about… that already? You just woke up. Don't you want to rest up a bit and get acclimated-"

"No, absolutely not. I'm going to get out of here as soon as I can, get Maya to her appointment when the time comes, and then, if I were given the opportunity, I'd like to get to the bottom of this crash."

"You're a persistent one… If you really want to know, I'll tell you all that I can. But prepare yourself for a long talk." Miles shuddered in his seat, not wanting to be the bearer of such a grisly tale.

"Please," Phoenix begged.

"For starters, the doctors aren't sure how you survived. You were unconscious and bleeding profusely, although the emergency responders believed that a lot of the blood on you was from one of the pilots. You also had a minor concussion, a strained neck, and a broken right wrist. But considering how far you were flung from the plane, your survival is nothing short of a miracle."

_I don't want Trucy hearing any of this, _Phoenix thought.

"Trucy, could you give Miles and I few minutes alone?"

"S-s-sure thing, Daddy," she quavered, and walked back to the front and out of the room, her red cape and brown hair waltzing in the air behind her as she shut the door."

The two men turned their attention back to each other.

"You said that someone found me on the ground? But I swear, when I was flying through the air, somebody grabbed my hand."

"I'd think that if they grabbed your hand, it could only have been somebody on the plane, and in that case, you would have been bleeding out there, and not on the ground."

"I'm not making things up, Miles. I remember thinking I was surely going to die, then I felt a hand clench around mine and I stopped falling."

"You could always be imagining things…That's what trauma does to people. It doesn't really make sense otherwise.,,,"

"But it seemed so real. I couldn't have been dreaming or thinking things up…"

"Well even if we don't know exactly what happened, at least you're okay now."

"True. True." Phoenix paused for a few moments before asking another question.

"So I was fairly beat up…. How did everyone get out?"

"It was all a great deal of luck." Miles responded. "While you, Dick, and those other few passengers were in the cockpit trying to control the plane, the cabin was a mess. I tried to keep the girls calm, and I made sure to guard Maya as best I could. The landing was hard, although we were all crouched down in-between the seats, so nobody was bumped around too much. But by the time the fuel tank exploded in the rear of the plane, the rain had let up and the flames slowly began to spread. There were a lot of passengers at the back of the plane, but thankfully the girls and I were nearer the middle.

"But did they make it out ok? And what about when the plane broke apart? It seems like this crash should have been impossible to survive."

"I am too surprised that so many people survived. But when the plane was flipped on its side after the explosion, it slowed down considerably. A lot of people chose that time to make a jump to the section in front of them where there were no flames, where we were. Some people did miss, and I'm sure they didn't survive their fall to the ground, but if they hadn't taken the risk, they would have burned to death. The blaze had almost completely consumed the rear and was coming dangerously close to the median, but we had nowhere left to go, and so we waited in fear to see what would happen."

"What about the rock?" Phoenix stretched his back and his arms, trying to relax and loosen up. He only ended up causing himself more pain.

"What rock?" Miles put his chin in his hands, his eyes reflecting a glint of curiosity.

"When the plane left the concrete and started plowing through a meadow, an enormous rock suddenly came into out path. Dick tried to maneuver the plane out of the way in time, but he hit it head on." Phoenix feebly tried to make gestures of the situation as he spoke, but to no avail.

"Ah, so that's what that colossal shock was. Nobody in the middle section was sure of what had happened. But either way, it split all the remaining connections that the pieces of the plane had to each other. The median was sent flying back slightly, but not too far nor powerfully enough to eject us from it. However, I heard that the cockpit was thrown great lengths…"

"It was an experience that I don't want to think about…"

"That explains why Dick and a few others landed in our piece of the plane…No sooner had we stopped than people were screaming about flying bodies. I looked up, and lo and behold less than twenty feet away was Dick's hulking mass soaring through there air. A few other men jumped beside me and we caught him just in time. He was dizzy, bleeding, and bruised, but definitely alive."

"And so was that most of it?"

"Pretty much. After the plane had stopped, everyone got out somehow. More than a few people had called ambulances and the police, and it was only a matter of time before they arrived. Dick and I helped the girls out, and then we went looking for you, but responders were already putting you on a stretcher by the time we found you. When they saw Dick, they also insisted on transporting him to the hospital."

"What about you? You look pretty banged up."

"It's not as bad as it looks." Miles toyed with a frayed piece of the bandage on his left arm. "Nothing worthy of a visit to the ER. The girls weren't bad either; matter of fact, I think Maya came out of the whole thing unscathed."

Phoenix couldn't be more relieved to hear those words. All of his friends were okay.

"Is Dick still here?"

"No. He's quite resilient, got discharged the next day with some pain medications and quite a few stitches."

"Well, I'm just glad everyone is alive. So how long have I been here now?"

"Five days. Up until now, you had been passed out the whole time. You were stable within a day; actually, the doctors told me that you could be discharged the day after you woke up. So if you're up to it, you can leave tomorrow."

"Absolutely," Phoenix chimed, "I have better places to be than here."

"The doctors will see to that, then. I'm sure one of them will be paying you a visit soon enough, and they can tell you all your prescriptions and special instructions that you'll need."

Phoenix didn't have anything to say back; it seemed as if their conversation had come to an end. Silence fell upon the room for a moment, until Miles piped up with a bit of small talk.

"Quite a pain, finding an English news channel," he murmured. "Took me half an hour of going through the guide. But I figured it would be worth it."

"I'm not surprised."

"And it's quite different, being in another country…A great experience, nonetheless, but very different." Miles tapped his fingers on the arm of the chair and absent mindedly shook his foot back and forth. Phoenix nodded his head in agreement, not saying anything.

"Well, I think I should get going; I want to make sure that Trucy didn't get into any trouble." Miles began to get up from the chair.

"Wait!" Phoenix shouted, struggling to lean out of his bed, and then lying back down in defeat. "Before you go, how is Maya doing? You're helping her take all her medications, right?"

Miles opened his mouth, but before any words came out, the wooden door at the front of the room swung open and slammed against the wall, surprising both men.

The prosecutor spun around in time to see a tall, western clad man enter the room. He swayed slightly as he walked, taking loose, lax strides as he yanked a chair from one end of the room and dragged it closer to the window.

"You again?" Phoenix asked in shock, realizing that it was the cowboy from the wreck.

Miles took a suspicious glance at the man, and shifted his attention back to Phoenix, seeming intrigued. "You two know each other?"

"No need to be mad, Mr. Wright," the cowboy spoke smoothly. "Just stopping by to see how my fellow pilot is. I thought you might be here, so I checked the front desk and asked for a the man that was taken in a few days ago from the Flight 455 accident." He seemed incredibly laidback, considering the ordeal he had just been through, and moved in his chair, looking at Miles. "To the mummy, yes. Only briefly, but I'd be lying through my teeth if I said no. And I am a guy that does not like to lie " He made a slightly goofy and cocky grin.

He looked very similar to his previous appearance, still donning the glasses and hat, albeit with no cuts and bruises, and with a brown jacket rather than a black one. A dark colored, expensive looking belt dangled from his waist and a blue scarf was wrapped around his neck. He had a few stitches going across his stubbled chin, but other than that, there was no evidence that he was just in a plane accident.

"I suppose I should be getting to the point of my visit," he said, brushing invisible dust from his shirt, beefing up his already pompous ego. "Luka Redgrave's my name, and journalism's my game. I had been in the great U of S reporting on a serial killer's rampage, but after the bastard was caught, there wasn't much around me worthy of keeping up on. I was heading back here to write about an embezzlement scandal, but it seems as if I've found myself a much more interesting case to report on. Since I plan on sticking around here awhile to do my research, I thought I'd go and check in on the guy who saved us all." He kicked up one of his legs and draped it over the arm of the chair.

"Well, Mr.-" Phoenix began.

"Please, call me Luka."

Phoenix huffed in annoyance. "Well Luka, I'm pleased to meet you, but I don't think I did any saving back there."

"Of course you did; you know how screwed we would have all been if the landing gear hadn't come down?"

"The plane crashed anyways, I don't see how I helped that much. My friend Dick is who you should be thanking."

"Trust me, Mr. Wright. Without your actions, things would have been a lot worse. Just ask your little friend here; I'm sure he can say the same. That Dick guy may have been flying it, but a plane landing the wrong way at such a speed? Whole belly of it would've been carved up on the ground."

"It's true, Phoenix," Miles said, "You played an invaluable part. And to the dearest outlaw, my name is Miles Edgeworth, not Mummy, if perhaps you have any manners."

Luka chuckled, taking no insult from his jab. "Ok, so Miles. Sure thing pal, whatever you say." He removed a small notebook and pencil from a pocket in his jacket, looked at Phoenix for a few seconds, and jotted a few words down. "Never hurts to say you know the guy who saved the day, although I promise to not to mention your name, especially since the press is frantically trying to identify everyone who went into the cockpit. If you're not the stardom type, then I'd lay low for a while, until this dies down and the world's incompetent law enforcement decides they can't catch the fucker who did this and throws the whole case down a shithole like they do everything else."

_This guy sure knows how to be cocky and blunt, _Phoenix thought, _but charismatic too._

"Thank you for the advice, Luka," Phoenix said. "I'll make sure to stay out of the public eye. But I'd have a little more faith in the justice system and police if I were you. I'm a lawyer myself, and it's not all bad."

"Sorry Mr. Wright, but I won't believe that until the day I see it. For now, I'm my own police, and I plan on doing a better job than the ones that run around clueless all day"

"Luka," Miles chided, his teeth gritted, "It's a pleasure to be your acquaintance, but Phoenix and I have some matters to which we must attend. I think's is best you leave; you're a bit…in our way, figuratively speaking."

"Oh, so you want me to leave so soon? What a guy, kicking me out like this."

"No, it's nothing personal," Phoenix pleaded. "It's just, we have a lot of things going on. But it's nothing against you!"

"Of course not," Luka joked. "I was pulling your chain. I've got places to go and people to see too, not to mention a case to investigate. It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wright and Mr. Edgeworth. Perhaps our paths will cross again one day, granting it be a more pleasant circumstance." He bounced up from the chair and made his way toward the door. Just as he was out of it, he peeked back in and added something. "Damn it, I'm so forgetful sometimes. Mr. Wright, I also wanted to say, I'm sorry about your friend; I give you my condolences. 'Know exactly how you feel." He tipped his hat and was gone in a jiffy, giving no time for Miles or Phoenix to react to him.

_WHAT?_

"Edgeworth!" Phoenix roared, sitting straight up in bed, the sudden rush of adrenaline subduing his pain. "You didn't God damn tell me! He of all people, a near complete stranger who just walks in here, had to? And you lied! You told me that she came off the plane, quote unquote, "unscathed". What kind of bullshit is that?"

Miles ran to Phoenix's bedside, startled by the abrupt accusation. This was the first time in Phoenix's life that he saw his friend truly unnerved and antagonized.

"Wait, wait! Please Phoenix, I was going to tell you. I just didn't know how…. " Miles gestured wildly with his hands, his body jittering.

"Well you shouldn't have waited! Why would you ever keep that from me?"

"I didn't mean to! I didn't know how you'd react; if you were still really out of it when you woke up; I wouldn't have wanted to tell it when you were in a bad state of mind. "

"I can take it! I could have taken it anytime! She was my closest friend, and I deserve to know about her! Now she's rotting in some coffin, and I wasn't even able to see her one last time!" Phoenix pounded his fists on the bedrails in and snorted in rage, ignoring the shooting pain it sent up his arms. If there had been a food tray, a box, or anything nearby, he would have certainly thrown it. If he hadn't had three IV's in his arm and been confined to a bed, he wouldn't have hesitated to throw Miles either.

"Phoenix, get ahold of yourself!" Miles begged, and quickly ran to the door and back to shut it. "She passed away…at about three, not too long ago. She had been fine at the hotel until early this morning. I had gotten up to relieve myself, and found her on the bathroom floor in a pool of blood and vomit. I woke Dick up, and this time Trucy and Pearl insisted on coming. She was alive when an ambulance brought her here, but she went into cardiac arrest, and then they couldn't detect a pulse…" His voice trailed off.

"Is that where Pearl and Dick are? With her?" He demanded.

"Yes… She's…still here….in her room. They said that the cause of death was undoubtedly cardiac arrest with no suspicion, and since she's not an organ donor, there's no need for an autopsy. The hospital is helping Dick and Pearl make funeral arrangements."

Phoenix's adrenaline rush subsided, and so did his second wind and anger. He collapsed back onto his bed, trying hard to keep from crying.

_Maya, I've failed you in every way._

"Phoenix," Miles said, trying to console his friend, "I'm sorry. It isn't fair. She was young, healthy, and I don't know what the happened. People like that don't deserve to die, and I don't know why they do. I don't know why so many people in this wretched world go so soon, but they do…..I'm sorry."

Phoenix continued to sob, pulling his knees up to his face to hide his bloodshot eyes and wet cheeks.

"What kind of world is this," Phoenix began to rant, "where innocent, lively seventeen year-olds die, and their poor eight year-old cousin has to see it? What kind of a world is it where someone goes from alive and well to dead in a little more than a week?"

"I don't know Phoenix, not any more than you do." Miles rested his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I want to see her."

"I don't know if the doctors will let you leave your room yet…."

"Does it look like I care?" Phoenix sniffled quietly. "All I am asking is to see her one last time. If that's too much to ask-"

"Don't worry, I'll get somebody. You can count on me." Miles turned back and exited the room, his face red, upset, and flustered, his hands clammy, and his pace tense and hurried. One, three, five minutes passed, and then a short Welsh woman trotted in with Miles behind her. She walked up to Phoenix's bedside pushing a wheelchair, locks of short, wavy brown hair bouncing off her white coat as she moved.

"Mr. Wright," she started, "I'm Doctor Dewab. Sometimes I work here when there's a lull in appointments at my clinic. Today was busy, but when I heard that a future patient of mine just passed away, I came here. I'm very sorry about Maya."

"It's…nice to meet you, doctor." Phoenix rubbed his eyes and face, trying to dry his tears and look more composed.

"I heard that you want to see Maya. I assured the doctor on call that I'd get you down to her, but they said you must keep your IVs in, so you'll have to use this wheelchair. "

"Ok, whatever I have to do, I'll do." He tried to get himself out of bed, but failed. Dr. Dewab and Miles each grabbed an arm and slowly pulled him off the bed and into the chair. Miles stood behind it to push it, and the doctor put a hand around his IV pole.

Within a minute they were out of the room and down the hallway. None of them wanted to speak; Phoenix sobbed in the chair, Miles struggled to keep his composure, and Dr. Dewab stared somberly ahead.

"Mae'r byd yn hysbys ychydig, ac ni allwn ond gobeithio ei ddeall," she said. "The world is little known, and we can only hope to understand."

Phoenix didn't reply. He had no interest in speaking to anybody.

They reached the ICU, and Doctor Dewab gently knocked on a black door with a tiny window in the middle. At first, nothing happened, but eventually it creaked open. Phoenix saw Pearl's wet, tear-stained face peek out to see who was there. She laboriously pushed the door open all the way.

Pearl ran to the back of room to her cousin's side; Trucy sat blank stared on the floor beside her. Dick and who Phoenix presumed to be the doctor that had looked after Maya were in the corner of the room deep in conversation. He looked up upon hearing footsteps in the room and quickly murmured something to the doctor, walking away as he said it.

"Phoenix," he started to say, but his friend paid him no heed and went to Maya's side, next to Pearl.

For having such an insufferable death, she looked eerily peaceful. There was not a trace of blood on the white gown she wore, and her hands delicately crossed over her breast as strands of black hair gracefully intertwined with them, so close to her heart that no longer beat. Her skin was pale. Not a sickly pale, but a beautiful one, a color that described hallowed angels and divine goddesses, and her eyes were closed as if she were merely prancing in a land of dreams and imaginations, a place so far from where she really was.

The room was silent, sans Pearl's crying as she lightly touched Maya's forearm and then her magatama. The girl looked more broken than the ruined boards of an old house, the charred and smashed metal of Flight 455, and the collapsed stone buildings and statues from civilizations long past.

_Mr. Nick,, _Pearl thought, _I'm sorry. I tried to be strong just like Trucy, but I couldn't._

_Maya,_ Phoenix thought, putting his hand to her cheek, _I've failed you in every way. I'll never forgive myself. Wherever you are, however you may be, whoever you see, whenever you hear me, please know, I'm sorry. If only I could take your place, I would do it in an instant. But I can't. I can't seem to do anything.I'm a helpless fool in a merciless world. _

* * *

><p>Bayonetta sat on the edge of her hard, stiff cot, fumbling with Madama Butterfly's letter. A small window in the corner of the room gave sight to the endless torrent of rain than pounded down on the convent, and a insubstantial, creaky door on the other side of the room led to the rest of the building. A decrepit dresser was a few paces away from the bed, and a meagerly sized bureau sat adjacent to it, holding a pathetic amount of clothes, the bare minimum to get by with. There were no lights in the room, instead, a set of tall, thin candles sat on a ledge next to the door, their tiny flames fighting an uphill battle to ward off the darkness in the room. Minimalism and poverty; that was the life of a nun.<p>

_Look for ripples, Madama said. What does she expect to happen, the moon crashing down upon the earth or the sun exploding? _

Bayonetta rose from her bed and walked over to the diminutive birch dresser, pulling out drawers until she found the object she was looking for: a small blue card with gold trim. She turned it over a few times, admiring the tedious amount of detail it sported along with its masterful illustrations. It was a gift from a good friend.

She drew out a small, stained envelope from the drawer and was about to put the card and letter in it when she heard a knock at her door. Without hesitation, she threw all the items in the drawer and slammed it shut. Some of her belongings, she was sure, had a place in only one half of her life, and it was not here. Upon opening the door, standing there was Sister Lila, one of the nuns of the Sisters of St. Myrthia, the small but faithful convent than Bayonetta was in charge of.

"Mother Superior," Sister Lila spoke, clad in black, "I've received a message from a party requesting our services." Her words were not actually in English, but that was what Bayonetta heard them as, 'twas one of the gifts of also being a witch: the ability to understand all languages, whether they be earthly, heavenly, or demonic.

"And who is this party of people?" Bayonetta asked, tilting her hips, white waves of cloth dancing with her motions. She spoke in English, but Lila heard it as flawless Welsh; after all, it did not help to know every language if you couldn't speak them.

"The man who called went by the name of Miles Edgeworth. We have been helping him and his friends with clothing and shelter expenses, but now they are also in need of somebody to conduct a funeral."

"What a shame. But they are from the Americas, aren't they? Wouldn't they prefer to bury their friend on native land?"

"I'm sure they would, but they don't have a choice. Wales has indefinitely cancelled all flights entering and exiting the country due to a plane crash. That is actually why they need help; most of their possessions and money were lost or destroyed in that accident."

"Ah, I see. So who are they requesting to assist?"

"Just you. The family of the deceased has certain traditions and beliefs. It's dominantly female, and it is custom for the highest ranking Sister or Mother available to oversee all birth and death rituals. They prefer to not have viewings, and no males of any sort are to be involved in any of their activities.

_That's quite strange, _Bayonetta thought. _I've never heard of such practices._

"They would like to have it the day after tomorrow," Sister Lila added, "if that is possible."

_Could this be one of the ripples that Madama Butterfly spoke of?_

"That's fine, I can arrange. I am guessing that they need to find a place to bury their friend, too?"

"Yes; they do. I suggested to them St. Bertha's, but I was told that the decision is ultimately up to whoever is in charge; they've never been to Wales before and know absolutely nothing about it here."

"St. Bertha's is the best place I can think of. Sister Lila, please contact Mr. Edgeworth and tell him that I am at his services; I just need a names and a time of day, and then I will begin preparations."

"Yes, Mother Superior. I remember that the deceased's name was Maya Fey, as for the others, my memory is foggy. But I shall see to everything right away."

"Thank you, Sister Lila," Bayonetta replied. The other woman left the doorway and departed for the main room of the building, the only place in the entire three hundred and fifty year- old dilapidated convent where there was a telephone."

Bayonetta left the door open and walked over to the dresser again, this time taking out an old, yellowed, prayer book. She began flipping through its pages, reading carefully and closely, looking for just the right passages and scriptures.


	9. She of the Name and Grace

Bayonetta stood before the wrought iron cemetery gate, watching as six Sisters carried the ornate golden coffin through, placed it on a stand in the cemetery's clearing, and departed, not to return until the leader called them back. She clutched her book tightly to her chest while the wind whipped the grass and fallen leaves into a solemn dance. A stretch of trees bordered the area, casting everyone in deep shadow despite the harsh September sunlight, as if the earth was trying to tell the sun that now was not the time for cheer and radiance.

Twenty feet behind her, a large blue van parked along the side of the road. Phoenix was the first to get out, followed by Pearl, Miles, Trucy, and Dick. They all waited for each other and together made their way up dirt path that led to the gate. As they approached her, Bayonetta stopped them for a minute and addressed the group.

"I am very sorry for your loss, Mr. Wright," she spoke, bowing her head, "and the same for all of you, Mr. Edgeworth, Mr. Gumshoe, Miss Wright, and Miss Fey. You have my deepest sympathies."

"Thank you," Phoenix promptly answered for the group, fidgeting slightly in his suit, his gaze seeming lost in space. He started walking again with the rest of the group following, Trucy's long, frilly dress nearly dragging all the group, Pearl's barely making it to her knees.

"Wait!"

The group turned around and Bayonetta ran up to them.

"There was also something else I wanted to tell you. I can make this taxing occasion somewhat more bearable, if you'd like me too."

"More bearable how?" Trucy asked, her hands playing with the ruffles and sequins on her dress, her voice ringing bells of skepticism and wariness.

"Oh love, it'd be hard to explain to you." Bayonetta cooed, taking sympathy in the poor girl. "Actually, it's hard to explain to almost anybody. You'd think I was nuts. But if you could trust me….I can do something that other nuns cannot."

Phoenix looked to everyone, and they all slowly gave a nod of approval, with Trucy and Dick doing so last, and somewhat resentfully. "No need to explain," he said. "We have faith in you, Miss…?"

"Bayonetta. You may call me Bayonetta."

"Ah, okay. Well yes, Bayonetta, you can go ahead and do what you'd like to do. Thank you for taking the time and energy to ease this burden. It means a lot to us. We were all…really close to Maya." At the sound of her name, everyone in the group cringed and Pearl was on the verge of tears.

"I imagine so, Mr. Wright. From what my Sisters told me, she seemed to me a wonderful person and dear friend. I'd like to see that legacy remembered and carried out in any way I can." She stepped in front of the group and put her book beneath her right arm. "And now, if you'll give me a moment…" She kissed her pointer and index fingers and waved them in a small circular motion in the air. Wisps and then eventually streaks of soft purple light materialized in her hand's path and expanded outward. In only a few seconds, a shimmering human sized portal had formed in front of them.

Phoenix looked astounded and glanced back at Miles for a moment. Pearl tapped Dick's black coat arm to ask him an urgent question, and Trucy leaned in to listen. Bayonetta, in an exercise of respect, chose not to hear their conversations, but she surely needn't guess what it was about.

"What exactly is this? Are you sure this is safe?" Miles asked.

"I'm positive. I guarantee your safety. But it would be better to watch and participate rather than to ask questions," she replied. "This isn't a kind of phenomena that can be explained very well."

"I still don't know. I don't have anything against-"

"Mr. Edgeworth," Pearl agitatedly cut him off, "let Mr. Nick decide."

"Well, Phoenix. What will it be? Are you going to trust her? Or not? To me-"

"MR. EDGEWORTH!"

Phoenix stood in thought for a moment and then hesitantly strode through the portal as his friends followed. Bayonetta went through last, thinking to close the portal, but changing her mind in case anyone decided to forgo what was ahead. Now in Purgatorio, most of the human world seemed blurred and unfocused.

As they walked up the path and onto the cemetery's turf, the scene looked like a painting done by a toddler. Flowers were messy dots, headstones and grave markers resembled gray and tan smudges, the trees appeared to be rushed strokes of green, and the sky was no more than a haphazard spattering of blue and white. In their places existed Purgatorio's much more concrete versions of them: weeds and thorn bushes, witch's tombs, spindly, dead, leave-less trees, and a steel gray sky. Pearl looked around in bewilderment.

As they neared Maya's coffin, the only object that was clear in both worlds, Bayonetta gestured at their surroundings and reassured the group:

"I know that things may not seem right, but they are. Please don't be frightened. I have done this a thousand times, and never once has it begun any differently."

She took a spot a few feet to the side of the coffin and opened her book, waiting for Phoenix and his friends to organize themselves. As they shuffled into a neat line to pay their final respects, Bayonetta took a moment to praise herself.

_It's nice to know… That for once, I'm here for something peaceful. No angels to kill today… That's a relief._

Opening the book to the page she had marked, Bayonetta looked up and saw that the group was ready. Dainty, elegant words began to fall from her lips and fill every nook and cranny of the cemetery, distorting the environment around them even further.

"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

He maketh me lie down in green pastures; he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul; he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil,

for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies;

Thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life,

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever."

Bayonetta closed the book and stood quietly.

Phoenix walked up to the coffin, withdrew a bright red rose from his suit pocket, and gently placed the flower on it. If you listened very closely, you just might have been able to hear him reciting something, in such a low tone that not even Bayonetta's keen hearing could catch it. It was something from his childhood, something that he wasn't sure where he had learnt or picked it up from.

"May the road rise up to meet you.

May the wind always be at your back.

May the sun shine warm upon your face,

the rains fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again,

may God hold you in the palm of His hand.

Goodbye, Maya.

I love you."

He slowly stepped away, and one by one, each member of the party did the same, until there were five roses on the coffin, five final goodbyes spoken, and the ghosts of five hushed sobs hanging in the air. Bayonetta backed away from the coffin and joined the group.

_Any minute now._

For a few seconds, everything was still and unchanging. Then, thin beams of holy golden light began to gradually filter through the gray clouds. At first they were weak and meager, but after a few seconds they became nearly blinding, the light they brought with them brighter than a thousand suns and warmer than the heart of a fire. Next came the wing flaps, and the sudden stirring of the cemetery's air, it surging throughout the area with the strength of a beast, nearly knocking Miles and Pearl off their feet.

"What's happening?" Phoenix shouted. "This doesn't seem right at all. Please tell me this is normal!"

Bayonetta was the only one of the group not taken aback in surprise of shock, standing in the same spot as before, her stature and confidence pompous and unwavering, her billowing white robes the only part of her that moved.

"Of course. Would I not have done something by now if things weren't alright?"

"It's just, I've never seen something like this happen before. I've seen some pretty strange things, but I think this may be passing that mark!" He struggled to stay upright in the raging winds. "You're sure there's nothing wrong?"

"Absolutely. If anything were to ever go wrong, although there is no reason why such would ever happen, I would be on it in a second."

The source of the wing flaps and gales finally became visible as the clouds parted and a group of five angels with glowing halos descended from the heavens. Four of them were ivory-white and gold, twisted, towering human-bird hybrids. They had blue veins of scales running down their arms and legs, and contorted, spiked tails, while the fifth one, seemingly the leader, was masked, riding armor clad on a similar looking Pegasus.

Pearl ran to Phoenix and tightly gripped his sleeve, nearly tearing the fabric. "Nick," she croaked, "what are these…._things_ doing here?" She cowered and trembled in fear.

_Ugh. Whatever you do, don't cry. Please, _Bayonetta thought.

"Um, I'm not sure Pearl," he replied in a worried tone. "But don't worry, Bayonetta said that it's fine."

Pearl burst out in tears anyways and soaked Phoenix's suit.

_So of course she cries! _

_But, I forgot how terrifying it can be the first time someone sees an angel._

Phoenix put an arm around the weeping child, and Bayonetta looked to the rest of the group, whose faces and stares seemed to hold the same question.

"I imagine that none of you have any idea of what's going on. Quite simply, these are angels, and they will be taking you friend's soul to Heaven, or Paradiso, as some like to call it. Whatever name suites your fancy. A lot of people find it comforting to see that there loved one is actually going somewhere."

The whole group looked dumbfounded and backed up closer to the gates.

"You're serious?" Dick asked, no more convinced than he was before. "This isn't some really fancy parlor trick? It sounds like a load of crap to me."

"Mr. Gumshoe, I'm sure you've seen enough thus far to convince yourself otherwise." Bayonetta had to resist the urge to slap him.

"Then how exactly are you pulling this off, if you don't mind saying?"

"I've told you already, I can do a bit more… than the average nun."

"An excuse for incompetence and lies… "

_This man… The amount of nerve he has is disgusting. It seems when I try to play nice, nobody wants me to._

"If you are so doubtful, then you and anyone else who is can leave right now and pout somewhere else. I don't go to lengths to help people only to have them call my work crap." She lifted her arm and pointed in the direction of the cemetery gate.

Miles grabbed his friend's shoulder and pulled his body in his direction. "I don't exactly find this believable myself, but the most you can do is give the woman some respect."

"Look, I'm not trying to be disrespectful, just logical."

Phoenix separated the two and scolded them. "Both of you stop." He trembled and shook slightly, surely at the sight of the angels. "Just stop."

A loud screech came from one of the angels' beaks as it touched the ground first. It stopped flapping its wings and waited patiently as the others alighted nearby. The leader of the group came down last, its and the Pegasus's armor thumping and clanking loudly as they bumped against earth and stone. One could not help but admire their elegant yet terrifying and grotesque beauty. Pearl ran back behind Phoenix in horror, and Trucy backed up a few feet.

"It's only a few moments." Bayonetta said. "They'll be here and done, and perhaps you will find a little more closure than you would had you not seen this."

"B-but Miss Bayonetta," Pearl cowered, "are they going to come near us?"

"No darling, they won't. Most angels have little place or interest in the mundane world or its inhabitants, and don't care to pay any attention to them. This is their only involvement."

One of the angels lifted both its claws in the air above the coffin as if preparing to strike. But, surprisingly, it gently lowered them directly through the wood and metal, almost as gently as a mother caressing her child. The whole cemetery became silent and serene, even Pearl had stopped crying and Dick had stopped accusing. The angel slowly sifted its hands and arms throughout the box, until it finally removed them empty handed, and made a gesture at its leader. This was something that never happened at a funeral Bayonetta conducted.

_No no no no no. This should not be happening. Something is going down._

Bayonetta whipped around to face the group, trying her best to appear calm. "If you all would just wait a moment as I resolve something. No, actually, everyone, please go back to the entrance. That'd be the best thing to do."

"So something definitely is wrong," Dick scoffed as he took off at a remarkably slow pace. "No time to lie now."

They all listened and ran back immediately, widening the distance between them and the impending disaster. They were almost out of the cemetery, a good fifty feet away, when Pearl turned her head back for a split second and screamed. She dove to the ground in horror behind a thick bunch of trees, and not knowing what was happening, the others followed her.

Had she been as mundane as the rest of them, Bayonetta's head would have been sliced clean off right then and there. However, she was not, and as she heard a sharp hissing sound in the air, she sidestepped to see an axe plant itself in the trunk of a tree in front of her.

_They're going to be naughty? Then I guess I'll have to give them a good spanking. I've behaved myself for long enough anyways, and being nice can be dreadfully boring._

She turned around to see the angels in an attack position. Their leader had its back to her, still facing the coffin, when it jumped off the Pegasus, up into the air and hovered above the others. "What did you do this time, witch?" It shouted in an unnerving voice, warped by the helmet it wore. "Why don't you go to Hell, where you belong, and stop meddling in the lives of humans?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about. This party requested funeral services from my convent, and I was simply carrying out their wishes."

"Don't try to fool me! You are obviously not a nun!" It withdrew a long, polished sword from a scabbard on its back and thrust it forward.

"Did I ever say I was? I came here with no intention of ruffling any of your putrid feathers, and I am not in the mood for tearing any out."

"And why should we believe you, the one who has laid thousands of our kind slain at your feet? Who has let how many rivers and streams of blood run?"

"Because you are really starting to piss me off, and I'd really like to end this now."

"Now? When my subordinate could not find a soul in that body?"

_Oh._

"With witches comes trouble," it snarled, bracing itself. "And so I have no doubt that you are the one behind this!"

"I am not!" Bayonetta balled her fists and stamped a foot on the ground.

"What did you do with it? Send it to Hell, I presume, for your own amusement?"

"I did nothing of that sort. I thought this was a perfectly normal funeral, or as normal as it can be with filth like you needing to appear."

"Then who do you expect to explain this? The poor humans who you took advantage of?" It scoffed sarcastically and alighted on its Pegasus.

"Dear, I've said it twice, and I'll say it one more time: I have no idea where it is."

"Hmph…" the angel paused for a moment, "Since you don't want to atone for the atrocity you've done…. I have no choice." It looked to the angels flanking it. "Kill her."

The leader receded from the fight as one of the angels darted and threw another axe at Bayonetta. She dodged it easily and in a gigantic leap, bounded forward and kicked it in the face, opening a large gash that sprayed blood everywhere. It reared back in pain and Bayonetta took the opportunity to jump on its back, and with an ounce of effort, tear out both of its wings. However, that still didn't stop it, and it drew a third axe.

"Why even try?" She teased. The angel tried to throw the axe, but its pain and injuries caused it to fly slowly and predictably through the air. Bayonetta caught it and threw it straight back, striking the angel's towering mass square in the chest. It crumpled to the ground, its taught muscles loosening and weakening as its body began to dissipate into dust, leaving a small pile of halos and a massive blood stain on the ground beneath it.

_One down, three to go._

A second angel grabbed her from behind and wildly swung its claws to carve her chest. "Not a chance, sweetie," she said as she broke free into the air and planted a kick on its head, knocking it to the ground. A punch from another one of the angels narrowly missed her, her face coming dangerously close to the contorted spikes and grooves on its body that was becoming browner and redder as the fight wore on.

A surprise swipe of a claw caught Bayonetta from behind, and although it didn't pierce her skin, it ran down and shredded the entire length of her robes. White pieces and gold strips of fabric blew away in the wind, and the pitiful amount that was left of the outfit fell to the ground. The veil on her head did not survive either, and was tangled in the sharp, sleek tips of the angel's claws.

"You can't _ever _give me a break, can you?" She huffed as she jumped on top of a headstone, stark naked, her short hair beginning to wave in the air as if it had a mind of its own. "I can't tell you how much you've made me rack up in shopping bills because you can't help but touch me." Black strands of hair began to wrap themselves around her body and lavish chains and charms magically appeared to decorate them. An elegant plume of white ruffles sprang from the collar of a vest as it formed around her chest, and wavering strands grew off her sleeves, adorning themselves with silver and blue stars. To finish off the outfit, Bayonetta clicked her heels, and four pistols popped out of thin air and fell onto her shoes and into her hands.

"Love is Blue," she cackled before cocking one of them and shooting her second opponent thrice in the leg. "I've missed you. It's time we get reacquainted."

She leaped off the stone and ran towards the third angel, pulling her fist back in the air.

"Madama, aid me!" She yelled as she forced her fist forward in the air, opening a hellish portal in front of her. One of Madama Butterfly's enormous, ghastly pale blue hands emerged from the portal and grabbed the angel, crushing it into a scarlet jelly of blood and bones. It went back in as quickly as it had come out.

She strode cockily toward the injured, lumbering angel that she had shot before, giving it ridiculing looks as it weakly trudged through the grass, crushing graves beneath its feet, trying to gain traction with its failing body. It grasped at the quiver of arrows on its back, trying to grab one to string the bow it was holding.

"Poor poor thing. Do you want me to put you out of your misery? How shall I go about it? She though for a split second, and then gave it a shot to the head, sending it up in a smoking pillar of blood and feathers.

A hulking form slammed Bayonetta from behind and sent her flying across the cemetery and into a tree, her body hitting it with a sickly thump that sent branches and twigs tumbling.

_How did I forget… there were four of them….not three._

She popped up from the ground in pain, and was met with the last angel, one seemingly larger and far more menacing than the others. Bayonetta tried to dart out of the way, but one of its brawny fists struck her in the chest, almost breaking the amulet she wore and forcing her back down to the ground. Cocking her guns again, she fired two shots and hit home, giving her enough time to swing a leg out and knock it off its feet. Its body slipped and fell hard on the ground, shaking and breaking up the earth around them.

She got up, struggling, and then ran back across to the other side of the graveyard. A piece of marble jutting out of the ground from a broken tombstone tripped her, and she fell for the third time, slicing her cheek open. The last angel had gotten up and stood over her now, a huge, six foot sword in its claws.

_I can't get up again._

Just to see, she tried, but she was mere inches off the ground when the angel forced her back.

_Shit._

"Bravo, bravo!" Bayonetta heard the leader shout from a distance. "Off with her head!"

The angel's sword came down, and time seemed to slow for the witch. She saw her death at the hands of a stupid, foolish mistake, and at the bout of a conflict she hadn't done anything to involve herself in. Not like her mother, who died fighting for her people. Who died with at least a shred of dignity.

_What a way to die,_ she thought to herself.

The tip of the sword nicked just above her collarbone and a black, spiked whip coiled around the angel's neck, looping itself incredibly tightly. The angel's arms flew back in surprise and it dropped the sword, putting its hands to its throat. The sword broke into thousands of pieces as it clattered to the ground, and the whip constricted itself more and more, drawing blood from the angel's neck and incomprehensible cries of anguish from the its beak. A gruesome brush burn was left where it dragged itself across its body and shredded feathers left and right, until one final valiant tug yielded a crunch of bones and broke the angel's neck.

It cried no more and crumpled to the ground atop a grave marker, shattering a pot of flowers, its neck and head bent at an awkward angle. It lay motionless on the ground, its wings clumsily fanned out, limbs splayed in random ways with grass and rocks poking in between them. Two silver, ornate chains that had run down the front of its chest and its back were crushed under its own weight. Eventually, just like all the others, its body flaked apart into a fine, silver powder, leaving no evidence it had ever existed, sans the tiny golden halos that scattered throughout the grass.

Bayonetta looked up to see a young, fair skinned, pale-blue haired woman standing behind where the angel had once been. The killer whip hung from her hands, now sticky with blood and feathers.

There was only one thing Bayonetta could think of at the moment.

"Who the Hell are you?"

The woman cracked her whip, it perfectly matching her black gloves, vest and skirt. Blood from the angel dotted her white, poofy sleeves, and there was a small cut visible on her wrist. "That's not what I would expect to hear from an idiot whose life I just saved. Especially when the last of those things left seems to be quite angry and bent on killing you itself." She motioned to the leader of the group, who was galloping over on the Pegasus.

"We shan't be arguing now, if either of us wants to live," she continued. "I'd suggest you get up and help me finish this. You distract her and I will come in by surprise."

Bayonetta scrambled to her feet in agony, kicking away stones and uprooted plants. She withdrew a red lollipop from a pocket in her outfit and put it to her lips.

_That's much better, _she thought as the lollipop's healing effects began to take place.

Bayonetta turned to face her final opponent, while the other woman dashed off before the angel could get a good look at her.

"Where did your little friend run off to?" It snarled, the Pegasus angrily rearing up. "Home, because they didn't want to perish alongside someone as wretched as you? That's a smart thing to do." A light purple tassel of fur coming from its helmet waved in the breeze.

"I will tell you once more, you little sack of shit. I did nothing. Absolutely nothing to provoke any of this."

"The word of a witch is no better than the word of the Devil."

The Pegasus bolted at Bayonetta, and the angel drew a large scepter. It swung at Bayonetta, but she ducked and got out of the back. She fired an array of bullets at the rider and the stead; they bounced off their silver armor harmlessly.

"You think I would come here without preparing? Your infernal weapons cannot leave a mark, let alone a hole, in this armor. Give up now."

"Like I ever would." Bayonetta snarked as she planted a solid kick on the Pegasus's side, her stiletto making a sizable dent in the armor. "I don't need fancy weapons to hack you to pieces." She sidestepped as it charged at her. However, she didn't anticipate it turning around so gracefully. As she turned around to ready another kick, it was close to her, and the angel bashed her chest with the blunt side of the scepter, sending her stumbling backwards, precariously close to Maya's coffin.

As the Pegasus went past her, it turned around yet again to let its rider get another hit. This time, it jumped off the ground and flew over Bayonetta, the angel trying to bring its weapon down on top of her head. A flying figure intercepted the fight, and Bayonetta saw the mysterious woman crack her whip across the Pegasus's breastplate, the spikes on the whip ripping a gaping hole in the armor. It became frightened and veered wildly off to the side. The rider jumped off at the last second before it crashed head on into a tree, and landed on the ground in front of the Bayonetta and the mysterious woman, the fight becoming dangerously close to where the funeral party was taking shelter.

"You!" It screeched at the sight of the woman. "What are _you _doing here?"

"Hm? I don't believe we've ever met," she spoke as she readied her whip. "I don't know such uncivilized creatures, and I'd rather not get to know them, especially if they're getting in the way of my….. acquaintances' affairs."

_Huh? The girl can understand it? But she doesn't look to be any more than a human. What kind of human knows Enochian?_

"Go. You shouldn't be here. You want nothing to do with this scum."

"Excuse me," Bayonetta butted in, "I'm right here, and perfectly inclined to rip out those pretty little wings of yours at this point."

"Silence! I am not speaking to you."

"You might as well be addressing her," the woman retorted. "I came here for a rather somber occasion, only to find a gaggle of fools cowering in the bushes and you ugly beasts tearing up the cemetery and trying to murder this woman. Justice must be served."

The whip flung out gracefully and at a blinding speed like an extension of her arm more than a weapon. It moved far too fast for the angel to react, and it struck its helmet and the piece covering its neck, knocking them off and sending them flying over the gates and out of the grave yard.

Underneath it was a human face, not a feral and animal-like one that every angel always had. It was undeniably feminine, with weary but gallant eyes, a scar over its right temple, full, luscious lips, and parted brunette hair.

_What? _Bayonetta thought in surprise. _Since when….?_

"I will not lose to you!" The angel yelled, and turned to Bayonetta's partner. "And if you do not quit with your impudence and assistance to that vermin, don't think I will be merciful! Those who help the Devil are no better than he himself!" She flashed her sword and went straight for her throat, rage and impatience burning in her eyes.

Bayonetta intervened with a well-aimed sweep of her legs, tripping the angel. She slipped and fell to the ground, helpless as her adversaries towered over her and firmly stood on her wings to keep her from getting up.

"Nighty night, you naughty girl," Bayonetta taunted as she raised her foot over her throat, the heel of her stiletto razor sharp.

"WAIT!"

All three of them looked in the direction of the voice, in shock and surprise.

"Wait," Phoenix huffed, having run up to them, hunching over, his hands on his knees and his face toward the ground, dripping with sweat. "Stop. Don't kill her. Please don't kill her. Please don't kill Mia."

* * *

><p>Author's Note<p>

Well, whoever reads this; I hope you are enjoying it so far. This is the first legit story I've ever written, and I hope a lot of people read it and like it.

I realize it has a slow start. I realized that after chapter one. I know that a slow start can turn off a lot of people, but I didn't change what I was writing in fear of screwing it up. I've seen slow starts dong wrong, but also pretty typical ones and then quick ones done poorly too. I figured; just keep it how it was. It'd probably work out the best the way I originally intended it. I think it did, I hope others think it did. Because now I promise the pace picks up.

And more about the story: You have to have played a good chunk of both series (Ace Attorney and Bayonetta) to fully understand everything. If you haven't, there's a lot you might miss or not get. Not to deter anyone, I mean I've read stories about games, shows, etc, I've never seen, but knowing them helps.

I also apologize for the few formatting hiccups I had in the last few chapters (the absence of lines to separate different characters' points of view). HTML eludes me, and many times I thought I typed the right text to add them in only for them to not appear. But it seems now they added that option to the edit menu so that should not be a problem any more.

And now about the chapter. I think I did a pretty good job. I hope I gave a few good feels or gasps. That's all I have to say there.

These author notes won't be frequent things, only appearing when I really need to comment about something. But I felt the need to write one now, so, that's why you're reading this.

So anyways, happy reading, and I hope you enjoy the story. I promise you that I try my very hardest and write to the best of my ability. It's two in the morning now so I ought to stop typing and get to bed.

Oh! I forgot to mention, but The Lord Is My Shepherd and An Old Irish Poem do not belong to me. They are the works of others, I am merely using them in my story.

- Queen Waffles


	10. An Unexpected Meeting

**An Hour Earlier**

Mia Fey leaned on the marble railing, her head lowered, deep in thought as she listened to a stout, bald, middle aged man profess his life story, nervously standing on a large golden platform. A narrow but infinitely deep chasm separated the two, and a giant scale, half black and half white, stood behind him. Brushing through her hair, bumping over a large scar on her right temple, she anxiously waited for him to finish what he had to say; her wings dropped in melancholy anticipation of what his fate would be. Rows of candles spanned the walls and decorated an elegant chandelier hanging from the ceiling, but only a few of them flickered, and with weak, sickly flames.

"….I was in n'outta rehab for many years, and eventually, thanks ta' Minny and the rest a the family, I was able ta stop drinking and never stole another dollar in my life. I wanted ta make up for all the things I did, so I joined a local church n' volunteered there for quite a time, also helped at a homeless shelter n' soup kitchen. But my years a alcoholism caught up ta' me, and one night Minny drove me to the ER 'cause I was havin' so many pains. Doc' there ran a few tests, told me it was my liver, had things growing all over it, real bad things, n' he told Minny I hadn't too long. Sure 'nuff, I didn't, and….."

"No need to finish, sir," Mia spoke. "You've said enough."

He stopped talking, and the scale behind him began to shift. The black side, which up to this point had been weighed down considerably, slowly rose up to become even with the white side and then creaked to a halt. Strong, lively flames shot up from many of the candles, illuminating the room and chasing much of the dark away, bringing to light eons old paintings of battles, deaths, and births on the walls.

Mia breathed a sigh of relief, the halo above her head glowing a few shades brighter. The worse had, thankfully, not occurred.

"Um, mam?" The man asked, turning around to look at the scale, scratching the sleeve of his flannel shirt. "Did I make it?"

"No, not quite." She bowed her head in an apologetic gesture. "But there are worse fates. Redeem yourself further, and perhaps you can be tested again one day. Few come to Paradiso after their first Judgement." She slowly beat her wings and flew over the chasm and to the man, landing just a few feet from him. Drawing a key from her pocket, she led him to a grey door at the far end of the room, unlocking it and pushing it open. Behind it was a set of spiral stairs, leading downward back to the earth, the land of the equally lucky and unlucky dead.

"You may go," she quietly said. "I wish you the best in Purgatorio."

"T-thank you," he stuttered, taking a hold of the railing and nearly stumbling down. Mia waited for him to regain his footing, gently shutting the door once he was up and walking again.

Now that the man was gone, exactly half the candles in the room burned and the scale was perfectly even, neither light nor dark, good nor evil dominating. With nobody else in the room, she had no business being there, and flew to a door on the opposite side of the room, one to the outside world. As she landed nearby, it began to creak open.

_Oh dear; please be nobody bad. I've had but one decent person today._

Her wish came true, but in a tragic way. In stepped a young girl, no older than seven, with short, red curly hair, skin as pale as snow, and a torn and tattered dress that threatened to fall off with too drastic a move. She trembled uncontrollably, overtaken by fear and horror, her arms crossed over her chest and tightly gripping her shoulders. Her eyes met Mia's for a second, and then she hung her head down.

_I should not have thought anything._

"Here, little girl, let me help you," Mia softly spoke, her voice saturated with pity. She put a hand on the girl's shoulder, her grey robe brushing against her as she moved. "We have something important to do." As those words fell from her lips, two pillars from the marble railing bent to the side, and a bridge magically appeared over the chasm, connecting the two halves of the room.

But Mia's actions had terrified the girl, and she abruptly shied away, her dress falling away in the process, exposing a massive wound spanning from her nave to her collarbone, two broken ribs peeking through it. Not a drop of blood fell from it, and never would one again, but it didn't make it any less unnerving. The girl shrieked and quickly picked up her dress, covering it up again.

_Of all the kinds of people to come here…._

"Please."

_Why must it be this kind?_

The girl's terror was nothing new to her. This was how….most children arrived. At least, the kind that Mia suspected she was. There was only one sentence she needed to say to confirm her suspicions.

"They're not here."

At the sound of the words, the girl perked up and slowly approached Mia.

_Just….as I thought._

The girl lightly grabbed her wrist with a free hand, and in a low voice, mumbled something.

"Daddy's not here, is he?"

Mia leaned down next to her, meeting at eye level.

"No, he's not."

"Are…are you sure?"

"I'm sure. You're safe here."

She beckoned for the girl to lean in and gave her a hug, the girl burying her face in her robes. She started to sob in the heart wrenching way that the souls of all children seemed to do, and tightly wrapped her arms around her chest and back, innocently groping her bosom. A stream of tears ran down her face, making miniscule puddles where they landed.

"Shh, shhh," Mia whispered. "Everything will be alright." She tenderly stroked the girl's hair and face, wiping her tears away. The girl hugged tighter to the point of it being uncomfortable, surprising Mia with the amount of strength she possessed, and wailed on, oblivious to everything she said.

Mia took a deep, strained breath, and slowly and quietly sang to the girl.

"There's an old Paint pony

With his head hanging low.

His rider's gone

To where the green grasses grow.

The Master's been calling

From all the grand lands.

Good-bye, old Paint

And the range where you stand."

As Mia sang on, the girl relaxed, the words filling her with peace and serenity, words so unlike of her Mother's and Father's.

"Good-bye, old Paint.

I'm leaving Cheyenne.

Good-bye, old Paint.

I'm off to Montan'.

My foot's in the stirrup,

My rein in my hand.

Good-bye, old Paint.

I'm leaving Cheyenne."

As the last of Mia's words echoed off the room's walls, the girl became quiet, her grip loosening. She stepped back and fumbled with her dress, far less scared than she had been initially.

"Little girl," Mia said, hoping she had helped. "What's your name?"

She hesitated for a moment before replying in a squeaky voice: "Winona."

"Winona, will you do something brave? Something that only a brave girl like you can do?"

She nodded.

"Then," Mia said as she stood up and thrust an open palm toward the girl, "take my hand."

Winona did, and it was then that Mia noticed the bruises dotting the girl's arms and collar like hideous weeds popping up in a beautiful garden. She began to walk away and Winona followed just as the swung open and slammed loudly against the wall.

Mia spun around with Winona in tow, seeing two angels standing in the doorway, one that she had never seen in her life, and another that she thought she would never see.

"F-Father Damian?" Mia asked in shock, getting down on one knee and bowing. "What brings you here, Your Greatness?"

"Bring the girl to me," he spoke coldly, ignoring her words. Mia obeyed and walked over, the girl's terror returning at the sight of the intimidating figure. The other angel, a young, lean man in his thirties, took the girl by the arm.

"Judge her, Julius." Damian ordered. The man bowed his head in agreement and began briskly walking away across an expanse of clouds, the girl feebly resisting and trying to run back to Mia.

"Mister!" Winona cried. "Mister! Please stop!" Please!" But the man ignored her pleas and continued on, their figure becoming fainter every second.

Father Damian closed the door behind him and approached Mia, towering over her. He had massive cream colored wings and looked to be his mid-seventies, yet was more intimidating than any demon from Hell, and most likely older than one too. A long gray beard hung from his chin and curled into a pointed tip; rows of hair growing to the back of his neck. He donned a completely white robe than ran to and piled at the floor, with five cravats around his neck, signifying his position and superiority.

"Mia," he spoke, nearly emotionlessly, "I implore that you run a funeral for me."

Still not over the initial shock that the high ruler of the heavens was standing before her, his request only surprised her more.

"Oh-oh okay, Your Greatness. I will make sure to do an excellent job. You will not be disappointed." She bowed her head and her brown hair fell off her shoulder, her blue magatama swinging with it.

_But me? The Lessers do a fine job at funerals. They can carry the souls of the dead as well as anyone else. Why would he need anything more?_

"I am sure you will."

"But, Your Greatness, why me? Surely there are many who are more deserving of your grace and request than me. Or many Lessers that are best fit for such a job anyways?" She was afraid that he would lash out for questioning him, but he replied as if he was expecting it.

"Because, this is a job that only an Archangel can do. To only send Lessers would be a foolish idea."

"A-and Your Greatness, why is that?"

"_She _is tending to it," he snapped.

"You mean, _She_ as in…?"

"Yes. The witch. Nothing good comes of that filth."

"But why?" Just the sound of Bayonetta's name infuriated Mia. The long dead Lumen Sages may have held their dark counterparts in respect and esteem, but not a single angel had an ounce of respect for her.

"That, I do not know. But it is highly dangerous, and I am certain she will at least attempt to kill anything we send, and creatures of magic like the Lessers hardly stand a chance. I need an archangel to go to make sure whoever's unfortunate soul that is gets here in one piece."

"I will certainly go, Your Greatness."

"But wait. There is something else I ask. If she does do anything out of line, which I am certain she will, kill her. If she doesn't…. kill her anyways. We have had to deal with her for far too long."

"Me? Kill the legendary Umbra Witch? Are-

"Miss Fey, if I did not think you were capable, I would not have come here. You are going, and that is that," he hissed. Mia jerked back a few inches in shock

"Of course," she shuddered in fear and pride, absent mindedly beating her wings. To put an end to what had tarnished the Laguna's existence for such a long time was an incredible honor.

"The party departs in an hour. I grant you permissions to the weapon's house and armory. Use what you see fit. Just remember, how much wrong she has done. How many of our brothers and sisters she has murdered. How much blood she has spilled." He shot her a harrowing look.

"Yes, Your Greatness. I will see to the funeral and make sure she does not leave it alive."

"Excellent," he spoke, and began to walk away his beard trailing in the wind, wings fully fanned out, leaving Mia alone in the room. She could not help but feel incredibly honored, frightened, and unnerved. She had only ever known Father Damian's reign, but she heard whispers from other angels, of past Fathers, Elders, Sages, and all kinds of rulers, who governed Paradiso not only with strength but also compassion and kindness, two things that Damian lacked.

_But this is the witch! She deserves nothing better than death!_

She stepped outside, onto a cloud, light yet solid, upon which stood a sea of buildings: houses, cathedrals, castles, churches, and a plethora of others. Most of the angel's preferred to fly, but for those like Mia who preferred to walk, a shimmering stone pathway was laid about, weaving its way from the buildings, making routes to gardens, forests, lakes, and anything you would even doubt could exist so far above the ground. The sun shone incredibly bright in the blue sky, higher clouds with other angels and places to them floating in close proximity.

She started off toward the armory, passing by benches, trees, and cottages, eventually coming to streets with sidewalks and roads. As she walked, the thoughts of the witch festered in her mind and she could not help but boil with rage and hate.

_Bayonetta, She who has killed countless! She who has no mercy! No compassion! A dreadful, disgusting blemish on the world, She is. And I shall be the one to end her!_

* * *

><p>Author's Note<p>

Sorry it's been awhile since my last update. Mid- terms (of which my Pre Calculus I am not sure how I am going to avoid bombing it) are coming up and I have two papers to write, so I've been busy lately. But I will always try to write as much as possible! :D There's some other things going on to, a few of which will be over with come next weekend, so hopefully I will be writing more then!

-Queen Waffles


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